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THE intention of this Work is to cultivate as 
much as possible, our national taste for the Arts; it 
is therefore calculated for two purposes, one to ini- 
tiate and instruct young persons, ivhose genius 
prompts them to these studies ; the other to gratify 
the taste of the Professor, whose judgment is ma- 
ture. To accomplish this design, it commences with 
the principles of Art, and proceeds regularly until 
it comprehends a, complete system of picturesque 

Nothing need be said to prove the utility of such 
a design ; and the Public is assured, not only that 
the utmost exertions have been made in its execution, 
to render it ivorthy their patronage, bid that it has 
been conducted with the greatest regard to delicacy, 
as ivell as elegance. 

It has long been an occasion of regret, that the 
Arts of Design, although universally considered as 
most elegant and useful acquisitions, should yet be 




( ii ) 

so difficult of attainment. Genius, without assist- 
ance, has seldom succeeded, and the expcnce of em- 
ploying masters deters many per sons from attempting 
these studies. The present Work is projected to 
obviate these difficulties. 

Upon the ahole, it is hoped the Artist's Reposi- 
tory will unite both instruction and entertainment, 
in a compendious system of elegant amusement: if 
professed Artists should sometimes think it passes 
too slightly over objects which they may suppose of 
consequence, they are requested to recollect the per- 
sons to uhom it is chiefly addressed: if, on the 
other hand, it should sometimes be thought too 
learned, the Public will excuse this error (if such 
it be) in a performance, whose Editor is desirous 
of imparting knowledge, and information, ivhich 
will certainly prove advantageous to his readers, 
and perhaps ultimately so to the Arts themselves. 





Delightful task ! to rear the tender thought- 
To teach the young idea how to shoot; 
To pour the enlivening spirit, and to plant 
The generous purpose in the glowing breast. 

O R D E It 



1. Introductory: being a Historical Sketch of 

the Progress of the Arts; their Materials, fyc. , 1 

2. A View of their Excellence and Utility , . 28 

3. On Genius and Beauty 53 

4. The Materials for Design; on Practice . 77 

Plates to this Lecture: 
Four Plates, Principles of Proportion, 1 to 4. 
Twelve Plates, Examples of Handling, 5 to lfi. 

5. The Human Figure; its Divisions; and Pro- 

portions of the Head Q5 

Plates to this Lecture: 
Plate 17 to 34. 

6. Character of the Head 122 

Plates to this Lecture: 
Plate 35 to 76. 

7. Expression of the Head . . . . 169 

Plates to this Lecture: 
Plate 77 to 79- 

8. Proportions of the Figure 189 

Plates to this Lecture: 
Plate 80 to 102. 

9. Character of the Figure 217 

P fates to this Lecture: 
Plate 103 to 1 16. 

10. Expression of the Figure , 249 

Plates to this Lecture: 
Plate 117 to 128. 





» < • . 


' LI 




IhE intention of the present discourse, Ladies 
and Gentlemen, is, to give a very brief view 
of the progress of those arts which are here* 
after to become the subjects of cur particular atten- 
tion. It is true, uncultivated nations, and barbarous 
ages, have withheld the applause due to their utility j 
but, in proportion to the advances of civilized so- 
ciety, and polished manners, they have been encou- 
raged, protected, and honoured. 

When we consider the state of mankind, as pre- 
sented by the first settlers in every country, sur- 
rounded by difficulties and dangers, perhaps involved 
in distress, we shall not wonder at the slow progress 
of mental refinement ; while the daily employment 
of man is to chase the wild animals of the wood, to 
ensnare the inhabitants of the water, or to lop the 
towering trees of the forest, and to fence with their 

Edit. 7* B branches 


branches the entrance of his cave : in this savage 
state, exertion of genius, and amusement of mind, 
are precluded by bodily want. Observation assures 
us this is the actual condition of many tribes of the 
human race ; and reason infers that such was the 
primary state of every new colony in all ages and 
parts of the world. 

But, after agriculture had civilized mankind, had 
rendered them stationary, and had taught them the 
advantages of society, the attentive part of our spe- 
cies, less constrained to a constant exertion of un- 
remitted labor, experienced the pleasures arising from 
the cultivation of their rational powers to be far su- 
perior to those of the senses, merely ; not impeding 
the efforts of industry (that natural source of wealth 
and ease), but, while reposing the body, invigorat- 
ing the mind, science became the pursuit of all 
ingenuous minds, and of all enlightened understand- 

There is reason to believe, that among the first 
essays of human skill, the arts of design had a- 
principal place. It is usual for the hand to attempt 
some kind of imitation of what the eye beholds, 
thereby expressing the disposition of the mind ; and 
beside this, it is natural to suppose, that the same 
fertile imagination which could invent instruments of 
music was not incapable of picturesque ideas ; that 
the same hardy ingenuity which could form into va- 
rious utensils the massy ore, might equally possess 
talents sufficient for the application of colours; 
which required neither toil nor strength to procure, 
but were presented by liberal nature upon the sur- 


face of the earth. If this supposition be just, the 
arts may claim an origin of the deepest antiquity: it is 
certain, they were employed by mankind wherever 
we can trace the progress of science, and long be- 
for any period to which our researches can attain. 

Pliny asserts, that a young woman, tracing upon 
a wall the shadow of her lover, which fell very dis- 
tinct from a lamp in the room, gave the first hint of 
Design ; and this circumstance Is usually alluded to 
whenever the origin of painting is introduced. 
Quintiltan attributes it to the shadow of a sheep, 
outlined by a shepherd. But, in fact, a much higher 
date must be assigned to it, than either those authors, 
or any I have seen, admit ; for, as shadow is coeval 
with substance and light, and as it offers so distinctly 
the form of bodies, that it is very supposeable man- 
kind are indebted to it for the discovery of this ele- 
gant study, what prevents our supposing likewise that 
the idea was adopted long before the times and cir- 
cumstances mentioned by Pliny and Quintilian ? 

On this subject, as on all others related to the 
more liberal studies, we can only draw our informa- 
tion from history ; and history cannot be cultivated, 
if indeed it can exist, before other branches of 
science have attained some popularity and establish- 
ment. Hence what accounts have reached us of the 
origin of all arts are extremely imperfect, since the 
authors who first attempted to relate them had only 
tradition, and that not always correct, to guide their 

The most necessary of Arts is architecture ; 
and it is evident that architecture was studied with di- 

B 2 ligence 


ligencc i-n very early ages. I think we may fairly 
presume, that after mankind had paid what they 
thought sufficient attention to necessary convenience 
in their dwellings, that kind of natural affection 
which arises from the attention bestowed on its sub- 
ject, would prompt the possessor to the r-ddition of 
ornaments, which Design alone could furnish ; and 
if this be natural in respect to ordinary residences, 
it is yet more likely with respect to those of great 
men, princes, and sovereigns ; and ^specially to 
temples, and edifices for worship, the supposed re- 
sidences of the Divinity to whom they were conse- 
crated. As to the labour and expence requisite for 
such works, we can appeal to numerous instances in 
proof that these were nor spared; and we might further 
confirm this idea by observing, that (according to 
the opinion of many learned men) the most ancient 
original records now extant, are those related, with 
prodigious labour and skill, by significant figures 
inscribed upon marble and stone. 

This part of our subject might be illustrated by 
adverting to the manners of those nations with whom 
our acquaintance is modern ; as they, in the state of 
simple nature (or nearly) were not totally ignorant 
of the arts, may we not reasonably infer, that our 
own parts of the globe, when in the same state, might 
possess the same talents ? 

We are informed by the accounts transmitted to us, 
that the Spaniards, when they discovered Mexico, &c. 
found the Art of Design practised among the people 
of that country as a mode of conveying intelligence : 
it is still used to the same purpose by sundry tribes 



of native Americans ; and, in the newly discovered 
islands of the South Sea, the Art of Sculpture, at 
least, is carried to some degree of excellence ; and 
though it cannot boaft of producing beauty, to which 
it is not applied, it may boast of producing terror, 
and terrific forms, in vast variety. 

If then we find the most ancient empires, and go- 
vernments of the strictest forms, protecting and en- 
couraging Art ; if we also find Art practised where 
government is little known, and little regarded ; if 
where man is civilized in the highest degree, and 
where he is civilized only in a small degree, we find 
him indulging his fancy, and exhibiting his skill, 
certainly we risque little in considering these Arts as 
the direct offspring of Nature, in attributing to them 
very remote antiquity, very early esteem, and very 
general practice. 

But, though all nations may be said to have cul- 
tivated Art, yet each has had a favourite manner and 
style, which it has adopted and preferred to all 
others : sometimes also a nation has promoted one 
branch of Art above others ; and sometimes the in- 
fluence of a Patron, or the merit of a particular 
Artist, has contributed to raise one particular branch 
to a distinction which it did not formerly enjoy ; and 
the effect of this distinction has been a succession of 
Art in this favourite branch, and a prolonged repu- 
tation in consequence. The vicissitudes of nations, 
also, whereby they have been raised to honour and 
stability, or sunk to weakness and impotence, have 
usually had correspondent effects upon Art : Peace 
is its friend, and War its enemy. Now these events 



muft have contributed to turn the studies of Art into 
different channels, and thereby to produce merit of 
different kinds. 

It is not our intention at present to notice the 
history or the state of Art at large (that we refer to 
another division of our work), but merely to trace, 
in some kind of order, the history of that style 
which our own Arts have adopted. 

From the most authentic records of early ages 
(the Mosaic history) we learn that a settlement was 
formed at Babylon, almost directly as the world be- 
came sufficiently peopled to permit the separation of 
colonies from the parent state : and we find also that 
a very superb undertaking of architecture was 
speedily resolved on, and that mankind had great 
reason to remember this undertaking by its effects ; 
all nations and all men being in some manner af- 
fected by this enterprise and its issue. From Baby- 
lon colonies travelled in search of settlement, and, 
among other countries, they early visited and esta- 
blished themselves in Egypt. 

We are the more interested in the history of Egyp- 
tian polity and manners, because much of our Art 
is derived from thence, and because we can appeal 
to specimens of Egyptian Art, which may direct our 
opinions, and guide our researches ; whereas all the 
productions, and all the contents of Babylon, of 
Nineveh, and of the countries around them, have 
perished, and have left no memorial by which we 
may form a judgment of their merit, or of their 
style and manner. 



The antiquities of Egypt, its pyramids, sphinxes, 
obelisks, temples, still remain, though the names 
g( their authors, and the times of their erection, are 
long since forgotten. They were ancient in the 
days of Herodotus, the father of European his- 
torians, who could gain no intelligence whereby to 
date the foundation of most of them : the inscrip- 
tions they bear are thought to be prior to the dis- 
covery and use of letters ; and though, could we 
now decypher those inscriptions, it is probable they 
might contribute little addition to the present stock 
of knowledge ; yet their information might gratify 
that curiosity which is verv prevalent in minds de- 
voted to science. 

Whether Egypt was the fruitful parent of all the 
sciences, is a question not now to be entered upon, 
certainly it contains extremely ancient exertions 
of human skill, in respect to those Arts whose his- 
tory forms our present subject. 

To the introduction and progress of the Arts in 
Egypt many circumstances seem to have contributed -. 
such as — its being a monarchical government, — the 
fertility of the country ; and — the nature of its reli- 
gion. Egypt seems to have been, if not the original 
seat of idolatry, yet more addicted to its supersti- 
tions than any nation of whose manners we have 
heard. The numerous edifices still existing in that 
country, formerly devoted to the worship of hero- 
deities, of sacred animals, and not only of animals, 
but of sacred vegetables also, are explicit evidences 
of the fact. Might not that idolatry which over- 
spread the land be one cause why the arts were more 
2 speedily 


speedily brought to some kind of perfection in Egypt 
than elsewhere ? Might not the very early custom of 
embalming the dead, so generally practised in this 
country, afford models for imitation ? The em- 
balmers of sacred birds might easily learn to model 
an ibis, or an hawk ; while such as were employed 
upon human bodies might form a human resem- 
blance, without possessing the greatest talents or abi- 

In fact, most pieces of Egyptian sculpture extant 
are little other than imitations of their mummies, 
and may well be considered as representations of their 
original heroes or deities : nor is it unlikely, that the 
traditionary respect paid by that people to the re- 
mains of their progenitors, might gradually be 
changed into superstitious adoration ; which shewed 
itself, under one of its forms, in the respect shewn to 
images, and in the qualities attributed to them. 

This supposition is strengthened, by noticing the 
very particular rigour with which Moses forbad the 
Israelites from forming likenesses of any thing on 
earth, in the air, or in the waters ; lest to such a 
likeness some imaginary virtue might be attributed, 
and that which originally was only intended as a re- 
semblance, should, by a process whereof he was well 
informed, be converted into an idol. 

Indeed, it is but too evident, from a multitude of 
circumstances, that the Arts were early subservient 
to idolatry, at least, that they contributed to spread 
its pernicious effects : and here permit me to re- 
mark, for the information of my younger auditors, 
that there appears to have been urgent, necessity for 



the severe prohibition in the second divine command, 
of whatever might tend to idolatrous worship ; since 
we find, that not only every land and nation, but 
likewise every city and village, had at this time its 
tutelary deity. Most of the names of towns recorded 
in the history of the conquest of Canaan by the 
Israelites, are titles distinguishing the idols of those 
places (vide in the book of Joshua, chap. xv. xix. 
Sec.) and express — sometimes the figure of a deity 
alone, as Hermes (Erm, or Aram), Hamon, Ham- 
moni : — more commonly, a deity, whether male or fe- 
male, accompanied by some device, ornament, or 
attribute, to distinguish it from others ; as, the Bull, 
the Serpent, the Lizard, and other creatures ; some- 
times united with emblems, as the Suns eye, (E?i- 
shemesh) ; the Eye on the Foot (En-rogeJ) ; the Lumi- 
nous Pomegranate (Rimmon-metoahJ ; and many others. 
From this custom of accompaniment by emblems, 
the emblem itself, after a time, was regarded as a 
symbol of the Divinity, and when separated from its 
tutelar deity, was regarded with veneration, on ac- 
count of the situation to which it had been pro- 
moted. Hence arose, probably, the worship paid to 
many creatures usually thought impure and offensive. 
Beside this, some idols had numerous arms, hands, 
or other parts, intimating multifarious powers ; and 
some were compositions of the human and animal 
forms : 

Dag ox his name, sea-monster, upward man, 
And downward fish : — 

Edit. 7. C To 


To return from this digression ; if popular preju- 
dice, or religious regulation, had not restrained the 
exertions of their genius, the Egyptians not only 
might have nurtured the Arts, but perhaps might 
have advanced them to maturity ; in subjects which 
permitted the Artists to follow their natural taste. 
they have proved themselves little inferior to the 
most admired masters ; but, as their elegant produc- 
tions are extremely rare, we are to look elsewhere for 
the perfection of Art. 

The intercourse between Egypt and Greece 
communicated to the latter the Science and Art of 
the former. Whether Greece was the country of in- 
vention or not, certainly the patronage it gave to the 
Arts promoted their improvement and perfection. 
As we usually look to Greece for the purest ex- 
amples of taste, and as the merit of its Artists, even 
to this day, maintains a distinguished place, and, in 
some instances, is admitted to the very first place of 
honour in the Arts, it may not be amiss to hint at 
the chief causes of this excellence ; which, I appre- 
hend were, principally, the following. 

Whatever might be the encouragement bestowed 
by private individuals on an Artist in compensation 
for his labours, it could not equal the advantage of 
public patronage ; therefore, when communities 
where the Arts nourished, treated them, not only 
as private excellencies, but as public benefits, an 
artist was impelled, by the additional and powerful 
principle of love to his country, to exert himself, 
and even to surpass himself, that the honour of his 
native city, or district, might not only be main- 


tained but augmented. Besides, as merit was secure 
of due renown, it was likewise certain of ade- 
quate reward. Nor were these the only motives 
which animated the masters of antiquity ; but supe- 
rior to these, and to all others, was the persuasion 
that a kind of religious respect was paid to their 
deities, by the exertion of exquisite skill in forming 
their symbols, and representations. 

The desire of personal honour, the glory of their 
country, and the principles of their religion, sur- 
mounted every difficulty : not contented with equal- 
ling, Artists were prompted to excel, whatever had 
been done before them ; and hereby they produced 
those works which now fill us with admiration. 

It must be acknowledged, that ancient Artists had 
many opportunities for study of which we are desti- 
tute : not only were the natives of their country 
well shaped, and proportioned, but the Artists had 
the additional advantage of seeing them constantly in 
their exercises, which consisted of manly, and war- 
like operations, of nimble and speedy motions, and 
of rapidity exerted to the utmost ; whence those who 
for study resorted to their schools had the most fa- 
vourable opportunity of acquiring just ideas, not of 
proportion only, but likewise of agility, grace, and 

The youth were forms for imitation, when they 
wished to infuse, as it were, life into the marble, or 
the picture : the aged, commanded by their appear- 
ance reverence and respect ; the noblest charac- 
teristic parts of these, combined, or selected, with ex- 
quisite judgment, became the representatives even of 

C 2 celestial 



celestial being; : and certainly, if gods such as ido- 
latry supposed, had thought proper to appear on 
earth, they could hardly have adopted forms more 
expressive than those the Artists of Greece had al- 
ready appointed to them. 

Indeed, the Grecian Artists have unanimously been 
acknowledged to surpass those of every other na- 
tion : they carried to their height most branches of 
Art, though we are at present little acquainted with 
their success in any other than purity of design. 
This we admire in their sculptures ; but, it is incre- 
dible that contemporary painters and designers, whose 
works were the boast of their times, should be defi- 
cient in the principles peculiar to their art ; and, as 
by the sratues which remain, we judge of the profi- 
ciency of ancient Artists in design, so had their best 
pictures been fortunate enough to have reached us, 
we may justly believe, they also would have com- 
manded our applause. 

Notwithstanding this admission, it is not easy to 
determine how far we may rely on the reports of 
ancient writers with respect to the pictures of which 
they speak ; they might be excellent, we grant it; 
and yet we may doubt whether, on comparison 
with the esteemed works of modern times, they 
would retain the same primary rank as the sculptures 
are universally placed in. Some of the noblest prin- 
ciples of Art (such as forming the figures into 
groups, and the judicious conducl: of light and 
shade) seem peculiar to the moderns; no ancient 
author recommending them, nor any ancient picture 
now remaining possessing them. It is true, those 



works which remain, may not have been among 
such as were deemed capital ; yet I apprehend, if 
the principles mentioned had prevailed, some appli- 
cation of them must have tinctured the works of 
even indifferent Artists ; whereas, no capable judge 
will attribute to such Artists, all the pictures which 
have been retrieved ; some of which seem to be co- 
pies, or repetitions, of excellent works. 

Wishing therefore to decline repeating the eulogia 
bestowed by ancient writers on the Artists of Anti- 
quity, because, we are uncertain whether their praises 
are not exaggerated, and because, it requires no small 
knowledge of the profession to applaud judiciously 
(a knowledge which those writers perhaps did not 
sufficiently possess), and because, to take their ex- 
pressions literally, seems too high, while to lower them 
properly, is difficult, we conclude by admitting to 
an honourable station the Artists of antiquity ; but 
we take the liberty to claim, upon some occasions, a 
place at their right hands. 

It is a melancholy reflection, that all things, how* 
ever good in their nature, may be abused. Beside 
their subserviency to idolatry, the Arts have been 
charged with introducing, or at least contributing 
to the support and the spread of, luxury, and effemi- 
nacy. To defend them from this imputation is a 
task I mean net to undertake ; nevertheless, to me 
it seems, that as courage may become brutality; 
hospitality, profusion ; or ceconomy, avarice ; or, as 
even the laws of a country which should be the se- 
curity of each individual, may degenerate into des- 
potism ; so, in common with other noble - and liberal 
2 science.?, 

14 ftlSTORY OF ART. [lECT. I. 

sciences, the Arts (in themselves truly honourable) 
by the depraved passions of mankind, have been pro- 
stituted to infamous and detestable purposes ; in 
which they have rather been subjects of pity than 
of blame. 

That luxury and effeminacy were the ruin of 
Greece, is not to be denied ; having forsaken good 
morals, they became subjugated to the Roman po- 
licy and power ; their country was desolated, their 
temples spoiled of their ornaments, and the capital 
productions of their great masters were transported 
to embellish the porticos of Rome. 

Rome was the seat of universal empire, the mis- 
tress of the world : into Rome flowed all that was 
curious and costly ; many generous minds were there, 
who prided themselves on their patronage of the Arts, 
and who liberally rewarded the merits of professors. 
That the Roman Artists attained considerable skill is 
granted ; but, notwithstanding their efforts to rival 
their masters, the Grecian manner remained always 
superior, and the Greek productions unequalled. 

Why the Roman Artists did not equal the Greek, 
may be answered, in some degree, by considering the 
different government and conduct of the people. 
The Roman commonwealth studied war, and was 
backward in cultivating the politer studies ; and 
when it did cultivate them, it was rather as a patron 
than as a professor ; it commanded, and employed, 
those who were already skilful, and rather paid their 
merit than exerted its own efforts in pursuit of supe- 
rior excellence. 

An art, or a science, like a state, or a kingdom, 



continues not long in glory : after great labour, it 
reaches its zenith, and perhaps maintains a certain 
splendour during the lives of a few eminent men : 
when these are gone, it dwindles to mediocrity, and 
from mediocrity it sinks into neglect and oblivion. 

If the morals of Greece were luxurious, and ef- 
feminate, by what epithets shall we characterize the 
manners of the Romans ? " Earthly ! sensual ! de- 
vilish !" Rome became the sink into which ran the 
vices of every country its arms had subdued. Aban- 
doned to impiety, and slaves to debauchery, its ru- 
lers and its citizens exulted in what should have asto- 
nished them with shame and horror. Riches but 
too often are considered solely as the means cf gra- 
tifying the irregular passions of our nature ; and, 
when flowing in abundance from the tributes of dis- 
tant provinces, they seem so easily acquired, no 
wonder they are rapidly spent : hence we find the 
Romans addicted to vices, and to expences, which 
are truly surprising ; and hence originated that weak- 
ness both of mind and body, of government, and 
of society, which at length iflued in the overthrow 
of the Roman state, and the utter subversion of its 

We do not therefore wonder, when reading the 
history of those times, that Providence commis- 
sioned the barbarous nations to punish the licen- 
tious, the profligate Romans ; our wonder rather is, 
that long before that period they were not involved 
in desolating ruin. When the numerous hordes of 
the surly north had over-run the distant provinces, 
and ravaged Italy, the Artist hung his head in silent 


10 PIST0RY GF ART. [lECT. 1. 

sorrow, or burst into lamentation at the savage 
scene ; not so much regretting his own performances 
(for Art had now declined), as the destruction of 
those he had been used to survey with wonder and 
delight. Farewel the productions of Apelles and 
Zeuxis ! farewel Lysyppus ! Praxiteles ! Phi- 
dias ! buried for a long, long night, beneath the 
ruins of the capitol ; of the palaces ; of Rome, 

I am sensible that a much greater variety of par- 
ticulars might have entered into this part of the pre- 
sent discourse : I might have mentioned the names 
of those celebrated Artists whose productions are our 
wonder ; I might have related anecdotes concerning 
their works ; I might have noticed the honours con- 
ferred on some, by the munificence of kings and 
princes ; and the respect paid to others, by the cities 
and states of whose communities they were members : 
but as this is, professedly, a slight sketch of the 
progress of the Arts, such instances, though ex- 
tremely honourable to our subject, are at present 
omitted : as are descriptions of pictures and statues, 
because, I do not think them properly subjects of 
description, but of inspection : and because, much 
of this history is treated at greater length in another 
part of our work : to which therefore we refer our 
farther inquiries. 

Thus have I briefly hinted at the progress of the 
Arts in ancient times : certainly this subject is inte- 
resting, yet it docs not interest us so closely as what 
has followed upon their revival : in general, they 
have ever accompanied learning and politeness ; as 
these have been encouraged, the Arts have flou- 
rished ; 


rished ; when these have been neglected, they have 
drooped ; when liberal science and knowledge were 
banished, they died. 

One would think when reflecting on certain his- 
torical events, that mankind were destitute of power 
to know, and to enjoy, their real happiness. Is it im- 
possible to unite purity of sentiment, to politeness of 
manners ? must cultivation of the mind debase it in 
some respects, while ennobling it in others ? Why 
should not the Greek, or the Roman, combine ele- 
gance of tastej with modesty and integrity ? Why 
should the Goth, or the Hunn, retain his ferocity, 
rather than unite to courage and prowess, the milder 
attainments of arts and knowledge : Yet such is the 
fact • after elegance and politeness, too often suc- 
ceeds over-refinement ; and to this — weakness and 
profligacy : as^ on the other hand, the brutal passions 
of uninstructed, uncultivated, nature, respect nei- 
ther the noblest exertions of genius, nor the most 
captivating productions of the human faculties, of 
skill almost divine. Here we ought to observe, that 
when the Arts were involved in the fall of Rome, 
they found some kind of protection at Constanti- 
nople (then the imperial residence) ; but very far in- 
deed was the Art here protected from rivalling the 
merit of that which Greece had formerly fostered, 
and matured. 

Long remained the Arts beneath the night of ob- 
scurity, in which ignorance and superstition involved 
Europe ; nor did they dawn again till the thirteenth 
century, when Cimabue, a native of Florence, trans- 
lated the poor remains of his ar ty from a few worth- 

Ed'it. 7. D less 


less itinerant Greek painters, to his native city, 
Thus, as Italy had formerly received the stem of Art 
from Greece, and had, in some sense, returned the 
plant again to that favoured country, where it was 
sheltered from the violence of the storm which broke 
over the Roman government, so now Greece was the 
country from whence Italy again received the rudi- 
ments of the Arts, which she gradually raised to a 
dignity far surpassing that which they enjoyed in 
their now native country. 

When Italy was overwhelmed by the Goths, and 
other enemies, the Arts took refuge in Greece : 
when Greece was overwhelmed by the Turks, the 
Arts fled to Italy : and here finding patrons, they 
acquired an establishment, and long maintained an 
extensive reputation. 

We have hinted that Cimabue was the first of 
the moderns whose productions commanded esteem ; 
and that he learned his art from Greek painters who 
visited Italy : we are not therefore to suppose that 
the works of Cimabue were such as we should deem 
excellent among those of later Artists : as curiosities, 
they will always be admired ; but, as studies, they 
are every way inferior to the productions of more 
modern genius. 

But, beside the merit of Cimabue as an /Artist, 
we are obliged to him for transmitting his art with 
improvements, to his scholars, and successors, who. 
adding each a something, to what they had learned 
o( their master, at length produced Artists of esta- 
blished merit. Hence we have Leonardo da Vin- 
ci, Michael Angelo, and Raphaelle ; and 



hence their numerous successors, not in Italy only, 
but in every state of Europe : and it is worth re- 
marking, that each state has produced Artists excel- 
lent in some department ; and has contributed some- 
what to the general stock of merit which the Arts 
.have furnished, 

It is customary to distinguish these local varieties 
by the name of Schools of Art : and hence we 
hear of the Italian school, which is subdivided into 
several, — as the Roman, the Bolognian, the Venetian, 
the Florentine, school : hence the Flemish school ; 
the Dutch, the French, and at length, the English 

The history of these schools is hardly to be un- 
derstood without introducing the lives of the Artists 
who founded, or who maintained, them ; and this 
would prolong the present discourse beyond its due 
limits. Yet as each school has its distinct character, 
we shall just remark, that according to its advantages 
that character has been formed. The discovery of 
the antique statues formed the style of design of 
the Roman school into a manner possessing much 
grandeur, truth, and elegance ; while Venice being 
rich, because commercial, excelled in magnifi- 
cence and in colouring, without any considerable ac- 
curacy of design. The nature of the country has 
distinguished the Flemish school by the figures of 
its subjects ; and the use of smaller apartments than 
is common in Italy, has given, by the shadows they 
projected, a truth and a force to its productions, in 
respect of light and shade, which justly entitle it to 
great esteem. Other schools are in many respects, 

D 2 more 


more or less, compounded of these principles ; and 
according to the opinion, or trie wishes of their pa- 
trons, or to the taste and abilities of some leading 
Artist, they vary in their character, and in the style 
of performance adopted by them. 

Genius, and its offspring, merit, are confined to 
no part of the world ; but they appear under various 
forms, according to the disposition of their cotem- 
poraries : correspondent to the nature of the work in 
which they are called to engage, must be the style 
they adopt ; and as it rarely happens that genius can 
lead the public opinion, it usually is under the ne- 
cessity of conforming to it. Very rarely, indeed, 
can an Artist persuade his patrons to see with his 
eyes, and therefore he is obliged to accommodate his 
performances to the faculties of those who are to in- 
spect them. 

It remains now that we introduce a few notices of 
the various materials which Art has employed, or on 
which it has wrought, in producing its works. 

Architecture was certainly, at first, constrained 
to employ stakes and wattles in constructing habita- 
tions ; to these succeeded the mud-walled cottage, 
supported by beams of timber ; and long did it con- 
tent itself with the stability and the convenience 
which timber afforded for building : but, at length, 
brick became a favourite for many uses ; then stone, 
whose durability was its great recommendation ; and 
after stone, marble, the most precious marble, which 
being variegated into innumerable beautiful patterns, 
charmed the eye with its richness, its diversity, and 
its lustre. 



Sculpture followed very nearly the track of 
Architecture : first it engaged its skill in carving of 
wood, then of ivory, then of clay, then of stone 
and of marble ; at length, it treated gems in a man- 
ner truly wonderful for accuracy and for minuteness : 
strongly contrasting these almost microscopic ob- 
jects with the colossal works which it produced in 

Painting used, at first, one simple colour, which 
delineated the outline of its subject, and afterwards 
tilled it up ; other colours were gradually introduced 
for the sake of variety, splendor, and effect. Doubt- 
less these colours were such earths as nature most 
readily offered : it could not be till after some time, 
and no small progress in other sciences, that colours 
requiring any degree of chymical preparation could 
be adopted into use ; but these, when known, and 
approved by experience, being desirable by reason 
of their brilliancy, or their durability, would be ea- 
gerly employed when requisite in certain effects. 

As we are about to notice a very considerable 
change in the materials used in the art of painting, 
it may be proper to desire attention to a few previous 
remarks on this subject. 

Many have been the conjectures concerning the 
vehicle, by means of which the ancient painters pre- 
pared their colours ; but no satisfactory hypothesis 
has yet been devised. Whatever it might be, it has 
preserved their colours to the present time, with a 
vigour and brilliancy perfectly surprising ; and even 
some remains of very early ages, by the accounts of 
travellers who have visited therm, are equally fresh 



and lively as any modern production. Of this du- 
rability the ancient picture called the Akiobrandhie 
marriage, now to be seen in the palace of that name 
at Rome, is a striking instance, which, though pro- 
bably painted two thousand years ago, continues to 
be a -fine picture. Those dicovered at Herculaneum 
are additional proofs ; as are the descriptions given 
by Pococke of some remains of coloured subjects 
in Upper Egypt, which, though very ancient, are 
yet clear and strong. 

It appears that oil was not the mean made use of 
to fit their colours for the canvas ; this discovery is 
thought to have been made in modern ages, and has 
usually been attributed to John Van Eyck (fre- 
quently called John of Bruges, from the place of his 
residence) about the beginning of the fourteenth 
century ; but a late writer (Mr. Raspe) has produced 
several arguments to prove, that painting in oil was 
known, if not to the ancients, yet long before the 
pretended discovery of John Van Eyck. The 
claims of this Artist arise from the testimony of Va- 
sari, in his " Lives of the Painters," first published 
in 1 566 ; a writer, who was neither a countryman 
of Van Eyck, nor a contemporary ; but who wrote 
and published his book one hundred and fifty years 
after him. Before Vasari's time it does not appear 
that any Flemish or Dutch historian had ascribed this 
invention to their countryman ; nor among the high 
encomiums on John Van Eyck as a painter, in his 
epitaph in the church of St. Donat at Bruges, is there 
any mention of his having invented oil-painting. 
Besides, instances occur, and are recorded by several 



writers, of Flemish oil-paintings, which were exe- 
cuted before the time of this supposed inventor. And 
Mr. Horace Walpole, in his "Anecdotes of 
Painting in England," lias produced some unques- 
tionable facts, which prove, that oil-painting was 
known and practised in this kingdom long before the 
time in which Van Eyck is reported to have in- 
vented it in Flanders. Among several arguments and 
facts to the same purpose, it is alledged, that Theo- 
philus, who is supposed to have lived in the tenth 
or eleventh century, in a treatise De Arte pingendi^ 
discovered in the library of Trinity College, describes 
the method of mak'ng linseed-oil for the use of 
painters, and gives two receipts for making oil-var- 

This, however, whether we call it invention,, or 
adoption, was of the utmost advantage to Art ; since, 
by this means, the colours of a painting are preserved 
much longer and better, and receive a lustre and 
sweetness to which, so far as appears, the ancients 
could never attain. 

The mode of usage consists in grinding the co- 
lours with nut-oil, or with linseed-oil ; the manner 
of working is very different from that in fresco, or 
or in water ; the oil does not dry nearly so fast ; and^ 
after it is dry, it gives the painter an opportunity of 
retouching the parts of his picture at pleasure ; 01 
even of entirely changing them in drawing, or in co- 
louring ; which in the other kinds of painting is im- 
practicable. The figures likewise are capable of 
greater force and boldness ; the colours mix better 
together ; they permit a more delicate and agreeable 
2 . colouring, 

24 HISTORY OP ART*- [lECT. f,- 

colouring, and give a union and tenderness to the 
work, inimitable in any other manner. 

It is somewhat extraordinary that this mode of ap- 
plying colours should have so long remained -unem- 
ployed, if it was known to the ancients ; unless they 
thought their own mode superior : but as the pro- 
perty of oil is to resist water, whereby oil-painting 
is calculated to afford protection from the injuries of 
the weather, it still remains surprising that no men- 
tion should be made of it, as used for ordinary, or 
external, works, at least. And indeed, it seems not 
improbable, that if John Van Eyck was not the 
inventor of painting in oil, he might revive it, or 
apply it to subjects to which it had not before been 
applied, or he might furnish an additional number 
and variety of colours ; and so augment its reputa- 
tion, and relieve it from that obscurity which had 
enveloped it : after his time this manner of painting 
was adopted into general use. 

About the middle of the fifteenth century, the 
Arts received a very considerable augmentation by 
the discovery of engraving. It is true, the an- 
cients practised, with great success, a kind of sculp- 
ture (which has been termed engraving) on precious 
stones and chrystals ; but the utility of this Art in 
furnishing impressions was not known till about 
A. D. 1460. 

The story of its discovery is thus related. A gold- 
smith of Florence, named Muso Finiguera, be- 
ing accustomed to take impressions in clay of every 
thing lie cut in metal, and to procure casts from it 
by melted sulphur, observed some of the casts to be 



marked with the very same strokes as were upon the 
original metal, the sulphur having taken the black 
from it : he tried to do the same from silver plates, 
on wet paper, by rubbing it gently on the back ; 
this also succeeded ; and this was the origin of that 
manner of engraving which is now carried to exqui- 
site perfection. This science is of the greatest uti- 
lity to Art and to Artists ; nothing spreads a master's 
fame so much as a general circulation of prints from 
his works ; statues, and pictures, are confined to one 
place, but by means of this discovery their beauties are 
exhibited to the world at large : nor is this profession 
less serviceable to Art in general, as it furnishes very 
commodiously, excellent copies of whatever is ele- 
gant, or admirable, as well for the satisfaction of the 
curious, and the reflection of masters ; as for the 
imitation and improvement of students. 

It may seem, indeed, that it was rather a "discovery 
of the Art of Printing than of Engraving which ori- 
ginated with Finiguera : it was the art of mul- 
tiplying impressions from subjects already engraved j 
for the Art of Engraving itself seems to nave at 
least as much claim to very remote antiquity as 
any other branch of Art; witness the signets, &c. 
usually worn by the great in the earliest ages : which 
were engraved with the appropriate devices of the 
persons to whom they belonged, as may be proved 
from sundry passages in the Mosaic history. 

The materials which have been wrought upon bv 
the Art of Engraving have been various : silver, 
gold, pewter, copper, wood, &c. Of these, pewter 
js still used for engraving of music, which is per- 

Edit. 7. E formed 

0,6 HISTORY OF ART, [lECT. 1. 

formed by stamping rather than engraving ; for which 
the softness of this metal particularly qualifies it, as 
it easily receives the impression desired. W ood has 
been used in many instances, and has produced works 
of great merit ; but, beside the difficulty of printing 
impressions from it, it is not capable of those exqui- 
site degrees of degradation, and of that beautiful 
finishing, which forms the distinguishing excellence 
of engraving on copper : hence copper is now used 
for all works requiring accuracy, and neatness ; and, 
by the several manners in which engraving on cop- 
per is performed, it furnishes a variety adapted to 
every requisition of Art, 

The rolling-press was inventedbyJusTUsLiPSius: 
and was first brought into England from Antwerp by 
John Speed, A. D. ]6lO. 

We have now traced the Arts, though indeed but 
slightly, from their origin to their glory, from their 
glory to their decay, from their decay to their revi- 
val ; we have seen them spread and flourish, or lan- 
guish and decay ; we have seen their influence also, 
that it has occasionally been considerable, and exten- 
sive ; if it has not always been so well di reefed as 
must be wished, we have shewn that this was not 
from any bias in the Arts themselves, but from 
that disposition of mind which too often perverts the 
noblest studies, and debases the most respectable 
professions. We have seen, that when any state has 
cherished the Arts, the Arts in return have embel- 
lished and adorned it, have recorded its advantages, 
or its honours ; have related events connected with it 
in a language familiar at once to the native, and to the 



stranger, from whatever distance he might come : 
— but this is not the place for remarking the excel- 
lence, or the utility, of the Arts : that we reserve for 
a succeeding discourse : we conclude the present, by 
ardently wishing, that as the Arts have, lately, been 
highly honoured and encouraged ; as they seem to have 
acquired a permanent establishment, not only in a 
public school, but likewise in public patronage : — 
may that patronage be long merited, and long conti- 
nued ! may the Arts long flourish to the honour of the 
British name, and be transmitted as one branch of 
British excellence to the latest posterity ! 





Ladies an© Gentlemen, 

N our preceding discourse we remarked, that, 
though sometimes neglected, and sometimes con- 
temned, yet by civilized society in general (and by 
this nation of late in particular), the Arts have 
been honoured with distinguished attention ; enjoy- 
ing not only the encouragement of individuals, but 
likewise the patronage of the public. An endeavour 
to account for this attention, and patronage, may at 
first sight appear superfluous, since it will readily be 
admitted, that general applause is not bestowed on a 
subject without merit : nevertheless, as I have now 
the honour to address such as desire to cultivate an 
acquaintance with the fine Arts, I presume it will not 
be deemed impertinent to animate this laudable in- 
tention, by offering a few remarks on their excel- 
lence, and utility. 

•Human nature, in its uncultivated condition, is 
mlier an object, of pity than of satisfaction ; little 



elevated above surrounding animals, or superior to 
beasts that perish, were bodily endowments its whole 
possession : but, when exerting the faculties of his 
mind, when exercising his powers of reflection and 
reason, Man appears to be " little lower than angels, 
and crowned with glory and honour." Indeed, so 
very different is our opinion of Man according to the 
contrary stations from which we view him, that we 
are ready to exclaim, ' What is this being whose 
wonderful powers soar into remote systems, and ex- 
plore the limits of creation ; or, when he descends to 
investigate minute objects, inspects with accuracy 
the very atoms of existence ? Is this being, also, the 
buffering subject of distress, of disease, of death V 

It is true the powers of the human mind are la- 
tent, but they are not less real ; they are too often 
diverted to trifles, but they are not less equal to the 
nobkst studies : they too often abide in obscurity 
through indolence or inattention, but they are not- 
less capable of energy, and of activity, of wisdom, 
which improves mankind, and of discoveries de- 
serving universal applause. What a pity then is it, 
that such sublime abilities should suffer bv misma- 
nagement, or be lost for want of use. 

If then our superior and distinguishing properties 
be those of the mind, certainly such studies as are 
adapted to open and expand the mind, to culti- 
vate the genius, and entertain the imagination, me- 
rit our especial regard and protection. And this is 
abundantly evident if we consider, that, beside the 
mental faculties bestowed on our species generally, 
Nature has given to each individual a proper and dis - 



tinct talent, which enables him to engage with most 
advantage in some certain course of study : now, as 
Nature does nothing in vain, it follows, that, where 
genius, fancy, imagination, taste, have been parti- 
cularly imparted to any, they should by all means be 
cultivated, improved, protected, and matured, in 
expectation of their future success and prosperity ; 
but this is not to be done without attention, and in- 
struction, whatever science be the object of our 

Sciences may be divided into speculative and 
practical : without any immediately apparent con- 
nection with the service of mankind, some engage 
the studious powers of thought ; others aim at pro- 
ducing or improving implements of daily utility ; 
the first require exertions of the understanding, to 
which the latter unite labour of the hand. 

The arts are compounded of speculation and 
practice : the conceptions of an imagination lively 
and vigorous, with a clear and emphatic manner of 
conveying those conceptions to the spectator. 

An imitative art, arising immediately from con- 
templation of the works of Nature, must, in many 
respects, partake of the properties of its origin : if 
the works it contemplates be pleasing, such will be 
the imitations of them which it produces ; if they 
be extensive or various, capable of infinite combi- 
nation and diversity, such will be the character of 
the Art which studies them : and beside this, if they 
be adapted to affect the mind, if they raise it to 
pleasure and delight, or moderate it to solemnity and 
sorrow, if they direct the sympathy which Nature 



has placed within us according to the subject they 
set before us, then, especially, their dignity and im- 
portance rise to demonstration, and Reason and 
Wisdom approve their encouragement. 

Hail, noble Art ! whose magic powers raise to our 
enchanted sight innumerable scenes of contempla- 
tion, lovely or awful, serene or solemn : excited by 
thee, we shout with the sons of mirth, or we dissolve 
in tears with the children of affliction ; the wild 
grandeur of savage nature, at thy command, strikes 
us with astonishment, or the fertile landscape expands 
our hearts with pleasure ; terror and distress are sub- 
ject to thee — tempest, conflagration, the confusions 
of battle, the horrors of war : thine too are the calm 
delights of social peace, the soft repose of domestic 
tranquillity ! 

All ideas of the mind, however extensive its ca- 
pacity, or accurate its researches, are received by 
means of the senses ; surely then to have these mU 
nisters of information well instructed, is no small ad- 
vantage ; and as by the eye, the far greater part of 
our ideas are transmitted to the mind, it appears of 
considerable importance to improve to the utmost 
this medium of knowledge. 

Of all the senses, sight is doubtless the busiest ; 
it searches with insatiable desires after new objects ; 
directly as awake we run to the light with eagerness, 
we imbibe with avidity the reflexions of an infinite 
variety of forms and colours ; to extend the pleasures 
of sight, we purchase by a thousand inconveniencies 
the satisfaction of dwelling on some eminence, never > , 

tired with the prospect, though immense, or bounded 



only by the azure mountains : not satisfied with the 
survey of distant objects, the eye must be enter- 
tained in our respective habitations ; we embellish 
our apartments with splendor, we decorate them with 
magnificence, we engage in this business every pro- 
duction of nature, improved by the labour of Art ; 
how many brilliant colours ! how many elegant forms ! 
what variety of materials ! what skill ! what ex- 
pence ! — to gratify the sight, to charm the eye. 
And not only is a person desirous of these enjoy- 
ments for himself, but he readily, and without hesi- 
tation, supposes, that his friends also will partake of 
this his good fortune ; persuaded that Nature has im- 
parted the same sensations to them as to himself, he 
scruples not to imagine, that they also will be enter- 
tained with this kind of entertainment, and be de- 
lighted with these delights ; so general, so univer- 
sal, is the conviction of the pleasures arising from 
sight I 

But now, might I be permitted to ask some who 
possess these advantages, whether they truly enjov 
them ? I am not certain they could answer in the af- 
firmative ; in vain the extensive prospect, presents its 
beauties, unless the beholder has skill to perceive 
them ; in vain the well-decorated apartment excites 
admiration, if the spectator be ignorant of the Artist's 

It is true Nature gives us sight, but the sense must 
rather be considered as a channel of conveyance for 
delight, than as delight itself; rather as a mean than 
as the end. It is the mind which receives sarisfac- 
tion through the medium of sight ; and if the mind 
'2 be 


be not gratified, the sense has little to boast of: and 
how should the mind be gratified, unless it be ac- 
quainted with the excellencies of the objects it sur- 
veys, and unless it have previous information in what 
those excellencies consist, and what is the nature of 
the beauties it is occupied in inspecting ? The mists 
of ignorance prevent the perception of many attrac- 
tive elegancies, which, were those mists removed, 
would amply reward the attention engaged in their 

The eye which has been prepared by instruction 
to regard them, discovers in the productions of Na- 
ture, or of Art, a thousand latent graces, and beau- 
ties, which uninformed observers pass by without 
notice (the principal excellencies are too striking to 
be overlooked) ; so may the ear of a person ignorant 
in music be entertained by a concert ; but he re- 
ceives not equal satisfaction with one to whom the 
principles of that science are familiar. 

Nature may be said to be at the same time veiled 
and unveiled : veiled— to those whose acquaintance 
with her is but ordinary or superficial-^-distant ac- 
quaintance : unveiled — to those who, by assiduity 
and constancy, have been admitted to her intimacy 
and friendship ; to these she exhibits beauties un- 
seen by others, and these behold innumerable charms 
which well reward, while they encrease, their attach- 
ment. Let no mortal ever suppose that he has en- 
tirely removed the veil of Nature ; ignorance alone 
can indulge the idea, as ignorance alone can infer, 
that to rend her veil is to raise it, 

Edit, 7, F Not 


Not only are the beauties of surrounding nature 
more exquisitely enjoyed by a learned eye, but, 
moreover, the Arts present to us a new creation : 
they recall from the silent tomb, generations long 
since departed, re-animate them for our delight and 
pleasure, and that with more vivacity than even the 
historian to whom we are indebted for our original 

If we examine the reasons of this fact, we find, 
that writing is, of necessity, long ere it interest us 
in behalf of its hero, and that the happiest language 
never equals in power those sensations which, from 
a well-conducted picture, flow at once into the 
mind : impelled by the irresistible energy of Art, 
xve honour the patriotism of Curtius, we respect 
Lycurgus and Solox, we venerate Plato and So- 
crates ; the continent engages our esteem, 
the intrepid Fabricius our applause, the heroic 
Regulus our admiration : when contemplating 
their sentiments, and their behaviour, under circum- 
stances happily expressed by the judicious Artist. 

History, however, has its province, and that pro- 
vince is instruction ; Poetry also has its province, and 
the province of Poetry, is delight — a delight not aris- 
ing so immediately from the poem, as from the ima- 
ges which the mind forms to itself of what the poem 
describes : the mind, as it were, converts the poem 
into a visionary spectacle, and then enjoys its own 
creation ; and the glory oi' Poetry is thus to excite 
the mfnc1 : whereas Picture presents the vision ready 
raised ; by the strength of its delineation it offers to 
the mind at once, and impresses, as near as possibly 


LfcCT. I.] HtSTORY OF ART. 35 

can be impressed, the representation of the scene as 
actually passing before the eye of the spectator ; 
it even numbers him among the actors, and per- 
suades him to bear his part of the sympathy winch 
animates the whole. 

As I do not recollect to have seen the comparison, 
between Poetry and Painting set in its true light as 
it appears to me (though I have perused several 
works on the subject), I shall take this opportunity 
of offering a hint, or two, on that comparison. 

Poetry must bring us acquainted with the hero of 
its tale in a gradual and regular manner^, and must 
exhibit in him qualities which engage our attention, 
and excite our wishes on his behalf : — and this it 
must do before it comes to the main, and most 
important, incident of the story it professes to 
treat. If it would interest us still more deeply, it 
must call to its aid other considerations ; for in- 
stance, it may trace the genealogy, the connections, 
of its hero, and display his extent, whether of ter- 
ritory, of reputation, or of influence. Poetry must 
do this, before we care whether the hero live or die, 
whether he be fortunate or unfortunate ; whereas, 
Picture, if desirous of introducing these particulars, 
places them after the main incident ; shews us at 
once the hero in the height of his situation ; and 
after having raised our sympathy for one of the 
same nature with ourselves, hints at what farther be- 
longs to the subject. It strikes the eye, — and, by 
means of the eye, strikes the mind, — by one strong 
effort; after which, it gratifies the desire of further 
information, if further information be desired, 

F 2 -h 

36 tflSTORY OP ART. [LECT. f. 

Is this an advantage to Painting ? It seems to be 
the course of nature, at least : as men we sympa- 
thize first with a man ; whether he be a king is an 
after consideration. Who that ever saw a man fall 
from a precipice, ever staid to enquire, what he 
was? before he felt the startle which shot through 
his veins : we lament him as a man ; then, if he be 
a father, we lament him as a father ; then arise the 
images of his children, grieving for their loss, and 
thus our sympathy spreads arounds us. 

Picture takes us at the very instant to which 
Poetry has laboured to bring us : it is no long ave- 
nue, at the end of which we expect a noble pro- 
spect j it is a vista, suddenly opening to our view, 
and inviting our further promenade among its 

Those are the best historians (as writers) whose 
language depicts the events they relate : those are 
the best poets whose descriptions raise mental images : 
but those are the best painters who transmit their 
own mental images, and engage the spectator to 
adopt them for himself. 

The history of an event, is, in fact, a very loose 
affair, so far as description is concerned ; — a battle 
may seem to be very accurately narrated, yet a battle 
is capable of a thousand forms : a triumph may ap- 
pear to be described strictly according to order, yet 
no two points'in its course offer the same effect : — 
so in Poetry ; let every grace of language be em- 
ployed accurately to describe a figure — dancing, for 
instance ; if the description be very particular, — so 
much the worse, — let it lift up one leg, — one arm, — 



or sway the head on one side, — it soon ceases to be 
poetry. The mind, if thus shackled by the poet, 
refuses to be of his company : general, loose, float- 
ing description, ideas that the mind may realise, or 
let it alone ; ideas to which it may add somewhat of 
its own, without perceiving the fallacy ; these are the 
best arts of Poetry, and in these it succeeds. 

Now, instead of the evanescent, aerial, images of 
Poetry, Picture delights in determinate forms ; it 
grasps, as it were, its object, and fixes it ; it leaves 
little room for the play of the spectator's mind, but 
then it deprives the mind of any desire to play ; it 
raises few ideas too vast for the mind to conceive, but 
then those it does raise may be completely gratified ; 
it does not appeal to the mind for conceptions above 
what it beholds, but it persuades the mind, while 
intent on it, that these are the best conceptions pos- 
sible ; that these ought to be adopted, and, as it ^ 
were, realised : it prohibits others for the time being ; 
and by the accuracy, verisimility, and indentity of 
those it presents, it impresses them on the spectator, 
with a force which differs from actual existence no 
farther than wishing a thing to be true, differs from 
actual conviction of its truth. How near these are 
combined in the human mind let the self- flattery of 
any day determine. 

If Poetry be compared to Rhetoric, Picture may 
be to Logic ; if Poetry originate ideas, she murt 
bring them to Picture to be realised : Poetry may 
describe Olympus, but Picture nrast people it with 
Gods : Poetry may hint at Hell, but Picture must 
pourtray the Devil, 



But not to trace further the subjects of history, or 
the principles of poetry, let us now consider those 
more immediate and personal services, for which we 
are daily beholden to the imitative Arts. 

It is natural to desire the constant company of 
friends whom we value, or relations whom we love ; 
but as human enjoyments admit not of stability, the 
dearest friends must part : such is one condition of 
life. It is true, and it is pleasant to reflect, that the 
faithful heart shall long enjoy the grateful pleasure 
of recollected love ; the retentive memory shall 
dwell with delight on past intercourse, but the re- 
tentive memory, and the faithful heart, very readily 
acknowledge their obligation to the arts of Design : 
the features, the manner, the air, the very person, 
is present in an animated portrait : for this enjoy- 
ment we are entirely beholden to the Arts. 

If there be, as undoubtedly there is, no small 
pleasure arising from the substituted presence of 
those whom we love, this advantage, though it may 
be somewhat weakened, yet is greatly extended, 
when we advert to the number of persons of whom 
we desire some memorial. Let us consider, that, 
after those most dear to us, our own families, our 
own friends, we are gratified by portraits of those 
eminent persons around us for whom we have con- 
ceived esteem ; the wise, the learned, the good, 
the illustrious ; and by portraits also of those whose 
misfortunes hare interested us ;. of those too who are 
not natives of our own country, but foreigners, 
whose celebrity has disposed us in their favour : ex- 
tend this idea to the famous characters of antiquitv, 



and connect with it the reflection, that, rather than 
not possess representations of certain personages, 
mankind has adopted suppositious forms, and unau- 
thentic portraits. I know not any satisfactory 
authority for the heads of Homer, yet heads of 
Homer are numerous ; and out of an army of saints 
and martyrs that might be collected, great would be 
the difficulty of justifying the likeness of one in a 
thousand. Surely this disposition of the mind sup- 
ports the observation, that, the Arts contribute 
greatly to the endearments of affection. 

But, beside contributing to the endearments of 
affection, the Arts, when well employed, become 
the channels of much useful intelligence ; many 
pages of description will not, cannot, impart so 
clear ideas of an eruption of Vesuvius, or of ./Etna, 
of a hurricane, or of a tempest, as design ; nor will 
language produce the view of a capital city, or an 
extensive prospect, which a picture opens at once ; 
no explanation of many implements of manufactures 
can be understood without representations of them ; 
nor can subjects of natural history, plants, fossils, 
or animals, be accurately distinguished, unless ac- 
companied by proper figures. I might appeal for 
the confirmation of this remark, to the various sen- 
timents of naturalists on the animals of Aristotle 
and Pliny ; the present name of that creature is so, 
or so, says one investigator of the subject ; no, says 
another, not that, but it may be such, or such ; 
while a third is ready to conclude that class of ani- 
mals, or at least t,hat species, is extinct ; whereas, 
I had 


had we delineations of the animal intended, we should 
be under no such embarassing perplexity. 

This is of more importance than may seem at first 
sight ; and it is of importance, especially, in our 
commercial nation, which imports such a vast va- 
riety of articles from all quarters of the globe. To 
general readers, a representation of the tea-tree is 
pleasing, because the plant probably yields their 
beverage ; but to the merchant who deals in the com- 
modity, it is more than pleasant ; it is interesting. 
Plants that yield medicine are with great propriety 
studied and examined by the faculty, and by all 
lovers of natural knowledge : but as the plants them- 
selves are, often, not to be procured, the best pos- 
sible substitute is furnished by the imitative Arts. 
The same may be said of natural history in general ; 
it may be inconvenient to keep elephants, lions, 
tigers, crocodiles, whales, and sharks : I say, though 
we desire a knowledge of these creatures, it may not 
suit us to keep them, but, by means of Design, we 
may easily acquire no despicable portion of acquaints 
ance with their forms, sizes, proportions, natures, 
and manners. We may know so much of them as 
may be of use for us to know ; and that, at an ex- 
pence so trifling as to suit every purse. If Man be 
the noblest subje6t of study, the Arts assist us in 
the Study of Man : if nature at large be our study, 
they assist us in the study of nature ; nay, in fact, 
nature cannot be effectively studied without them. 

By means of the Arts the productions of nature, 
or of art, in every part of the globe, become fami- 
liar to us ; we contemplate, without danger, the 



Groenlander in his hut, the Siberian in his cave ; 
mountains of ice, monsters of the deep : the bite of 
die rattle-snake, the sting Of the scorpion, strike us 
with no dread ; nor are we exposed to inconvenien- 
cies, though examining the manners of the Chinese,. 
or the Hottentot. No wonder an art so universally' 
useful, should be admired and distinguished as one 
of the highest embellishments of human life ! 

Upon the whole, and to pass over much that 
might be said, I venture to assert, that the Arts may 
justly be considered as blessings to mankind, when 
engaged in their proper sphere of usefulness ; that 
they have been sometimes otherwise, arises not from 
any evil in themselves, but from their having been 
abused by the corrupt passions of individuals ; no 
one regrets more sincerely "than myself, that prosti- 
tution which at some periods they have suffered ; 
nevertheless, the abuse of these sciences should, not 
prevent our respecting them for their services. 

The Arts owe their rise to superfluity, but are in- 
debted for their cultivation to good sense ; hence 
they have always kept pace with learning \ for in 
proportion as mankind became exonerated from ig- 
norance and fear, and sensible of the blessings of 
civilized life, they applied themselves to these 
elegant recreations : thus have their manners been 
polished, and innocent and peaceful pleasures have 
succeeded to violent and savage pastimes. What 
numbers are now amused and entertained by these 
delightful studies ! nor are they less improved, and 
benefited, than amused and entertained, for surely, 
to be able to design on the spot a striking prospect, 

Edit. 7- G or 


or a noble building ; a curious production of Art, 
or an uncommon appearance of Nature, is not only 
a desireable amusement, but an useful accomplish- 
ment. To preserve to remote posterity the resem- 
blances of illustrious personages, to transmit objects 
of attention to foreign climes, is no inconsiderable 
attainment : we are pleased with the talents of distant 
Artists ; in return, our own performances command 
their applause. 

As this remark, is peculiarly applicable to those 
whom I have the honour to address : I beg leave to 
lay no little stress upon it. I would not have it 
thought that barren elegance merely (pardon the 
term) is the whole which now engages our atten- 
tion ; the Arts, though elegancies undoubtedly, are 
yet useful elegancies ; and though they are entitled 
to respect as branches of polite education, yet, were 
they considered rather as to the advantages resulting 
from them, they would fully justify, as they would 
amply reward, both the time and the attention their 
study might have occupied. 

Let us further reflect, that, beside the information 
and elegance of these studies, they impart numerous 
advantages to industry in general ; how many inge- 
nious professions, not in Britain only, but in every 
civilized nation, are witnesses to this fact ! Survey 
a magnificent apartment, which of its embellish- 
ments can be executed with decent symmetry, not 
to mention elegance and taste, without knowledge in 
Design ? Proportion, which is the very life of De- 
sign, must be observed in every article, and must re- 
gulate the whole ; for, if disproportionate in its parts, 
1 or 


or extravagant in its contrivance, if confused, or 
wild in its distribution, how can it answer its purpose ? 
— which is, to please the eye. 

I would not be understood to assert, that we are 
pleased by rules only ; nor do I wish them tyrannic 
cally to confine genius : by no means ; rules are of 
advantage in their place, but not out of their place ; 
their province is, not to cramp and bind genius, but 
to direct the wandering taste to elegance, and to ex- 
clude whatever is disgustful, or deformed. 

Will the Ladies indulge the remark, that in that 
important article dress, a knowledge of the just 
principles of Art has considerable utility : on appeal- 
ing to times past, we are permitted to regret, that 
a kind of opposition to nature has been too often 
visible in many modes of dress which the sex has 
adopted, not because of their elegance, their sym- 
metry, or their use, but merely through the enchant- 
ment, or rather be witchery, of fashion. With 
what surprise do we now survey the habits of our 
ancestors ; with what astonishment do we exclaim, 
that ever such accoutrements should have been 
deemed handsome ! becoming ! ornamental ! and 
when the personal accomplishments, the virtues, and 
the beauties, of the present wearers of — need I name 
the fashion ? — are forgotten, who will insure these 
inventions from the disdain of future generations ? 

In many ornaments of dress (and ornaments are a 
principal part of dress) the principles of Art direcl: 
to embellishments greatly superior to many which 
have been adopted ; the absurdity was once very 
fashionable of adorning the elegant dresses of British 

G 2 ladies 


ladies with uncouth devices from remote climes ; 
certainly, not the beauty of their sprigs, their flowers, 
their figures, rendered them objects of taste ; neither 
was our native land destitute of sprigs or flowers : 
no ; but it required some skill to imitate them, be- 
cause every spectator could judge of their likeness ; 
whereas the imitation of foreign productions present- 
ing to us no likeness of which we might judge, the 
blunders of ignorance escaped detection. Farewel 
exotics ! our own country presents a thousand 
decorations, more elegant, more convenient, and (to 
us) more natural. 

I beg leave to repeat in this place a few remarks 
selected from Mr. Richardson, an Author, and an 
Artist, justly esteemed. 

" Because pictures are universally delightful, and 
accordingly make one part of our ornamental furni- 
ture, many, I believe, consider, the Art of Paint- 
ing but as a pleasing superfluity ; at best, that it 
holds but a low rank with respect to its usefulness to 
mankind. If there were in reality no more in it 
than innocent amusement ; if it were only one of 
those sweets that divine Providence has bestowed on 
us, to render the good of our present being superior 
to the evil of it, it ought to be considered as a 
bounty from Heaven, and to hold a place in our 
esteem accordingly. 

a Painting is that pleasant, innocent amusement. 
But it is more ; it is of great use, as being one of 
the means whereby we convey our ideas to each 
other, and which, in some respects, has the advan- 
tage of all the rest. And thus it must be ranked 


with these, and accordingly esteemed not only as an 
enjoyment, but as another language, which com- 
pletes the whole art of communicating our thoughts ; 
one of those particulars which raise the dignity of 
human nature so much above the brutes ; and which 
is the more considerable, as being a gift bestowed 
but upon a few even of our own species. 

" Words paint to the imagination, but every man 
forms the tiling to himself in his own way : language 
is very imperfect : there are innumerable colours and 
figures for which we have no name, and an infinity 
of other ideas which have no certain words univer- 
sally agreed upon as denoting them ; whereas the 
painter can convey his ideas of these things clearjy, 
and without ambiguity ; and what he says every one 
understands in the sense he intends it. 

" And this language is universal ; men of all na- 
tions hear the poet, moralist, historian, divine, or 
whatever other character the Painter assumes, speak- 
ing to them in their own mother tongue. 

" The pleasure that Painting, as a dumb art, gives 
us, is like what we receive from Music ; its beautiful 
forms, colours and harmony, are to the eye what 
sounds, and their harmony, are to the ear ; in both 
Arts, we are delighted in proportion to the skill of 
the Artist, and our own judgment to discover it. 
This beauty and harmony gives us so much pleasure 
at the sight of natural pictures, a prospect, a fine 
sky, a garden, &c. and the copies of these (i. e. imi- 
tative pictures), which renew the ideas of them, are 
-consequently pleasant : thus we see spring, summer, 
and autumn, in the depth of winter ; and frost and 



snow, if we please, when the dog-star rages. Nor 
do we barely see this variety of objects, but in good 
pictures we always see nature improved, or at least 
the best choice of it. We thus have nobler and 
finer ideas of men, animals, landscapes, &c. than 
we should perhaps have ever had ; and see particular 
accidents and beauties which rarely or never occur to 
us personally ; and this is no inconsiderable addition 
to the pleasure. 

" By reading, or discourse, we learn some parti- 
culars which we cannot have otherwise ; and by 
painting we are taught to form ideas of what we 
read : we see those things as the Painter saw them, 
or has improved them with much care and applica- 
tion ; and if he be a Raphael, a Guilio Romano, 
or some such great genius, we see them better than 
any one of an inferior character can, or even than 
one of their equals, without that degree of reflection 
they had made, possibly could. After having read 
Milton, one sees natme with better eyes than be- 
fore ; beauties appeir, which else had been unre- 
garded : so by conversing with the works of the best 
masters in painting, we form better images while we 
are reading, or thinking. 

" I will add but one article more in praise of this 
noble, delightful, and useful art, and that is this : 
the treasure of a nation consists in the pure produc- 
tions of nature, or those managed, or put together, 
and improved by art : now there is no artificer what- 
soever that produces so valuable a thing from such 
inconsiderable materials of nature's furnishing, as the 
painter ; putting the time (for that also must be con- 


sidered as one of those materials) into the account : 
it is next to creation. This country is many thou- 
sands of pounds the richer for Vandyke's hand, 
whose works are as current money as gold in most 
parts of Europe, and this with an inconsiderable ex- 
pence of the productions of nature. What a treasure 
then have all the great masters here, and elsewhere, 
given to the world !" 

These remarks, though made originally on the Art 
of Painting only (of which Mr. Richardson was 
writing), are equally applicable to the Arts of De- 
sign in their various branches. 

This gentleman, in another part of his works, is 
of opinion, that an Artist, by continually conversing 
with the perfections of Nature and Art, becomes not 
only a better proficient, but a better man. I heartily 
wish there was no reason to question the truth of 
this sentiment : certainly, I agree with him, that an 
Artist, whose knowledge of many beauties and won- 
ders in nature is extensive, and exact, ought to be 
deeply sensible of the divine perfections of their 
Author ; and in this view it appears, that the Arts 
may not a little contribute to the exercise of that ge- 
nuine piety, which, after all the applause due to 
other studies, is certainly the most excellent, and 
valuable, attainment. 

Aristotle indeed has said, that " Sculptors and 
Painters teach morality in a way more ready and effi- 
cacious, than even philosophers ; and that some of 
their works are as capable of correcting vice, as the 
precepts of moralists.'* It does not however appear 
from whose works Aristotle might have expected 



this good effect : so far as we can judge at present, 
if the pictures of those days were capable of pro- 
ducing it, they were very different from, as well as 
very superior to, the sculptures which remain. I 
shall not advert to the deficiencies of that system of 
morality which was current in the days of Ari- 
stotle, though, perhaps, a sarcastic observer 
might remark, that, morals equally good with those 
of some philosophers, were easily deducible from 
any kind of paintings or sculptures. 

But may not the Arts contribute to morality ? I 
am firmly persuaded, that every talent of the human 
mind not only may, but ought to advance good mo- 
rals : to think otherwise, appears to me, inconsistent 
with the character, and attributes, of our divine 
Author, c from whom descends every good, and 
every perfect gift.' 

And here I may say in favour of the Arts, at least 
so much as is usually said in favour of History, as 
teaching by examples, or of Dramatic Representa- 
tion, that it strongly impresses the miseries attending 
Vice, or the happiness attending Virtue. Instances 
of these, according to the subject, are not wanting : 
witness the guilty horrors of Richard, and the night- 
walkings of Lady Macbeth ; witness the deterring 
picture of jealousy in Othello, and of improvidence 
in Lear : if avarice need a lesson, take it from Shy- 
lock ; if prodigality, read it in Timon. But it may- 
be asked, "has Picture also its instances ? has it shewn 
the fatal end of Vice, and thereby read lessons of 
Virtue ?" Ever respected be the memory of the in- 
genious Hogarth, who has taught us to answer this 



question by affording an instance to which we ap- 
peal ; happy had it been for him, had all his pro- 
ductions equally tended to the encouragement of 
virtue, and the correction of vice ; but, while his 
history of the "Industrious, and Idle Pren- 
tices," his " Harlot's and Rake's Progress," 
and his "Marriage a-la-mode," remain, we shall 
certainly consider them as laudable examples of what 
may be done by the power of the pencil, in the 
cause of morality. Nor let the works of Mr. Pen- 
ny be passed over without encomium, by whoever 
recollects his pictures of "Vice neglected in sick- 
ness ;" and "Virtue surrounded by sympathising 

" The effects of Picture are sometimes wonder- 
ful. It is said, that Alexander trembled and grew 
pale, on seeing a picture of Palamedes betrayed to' 
death by his friends ; it bringing to his mind a sting- 
ing remembrance of his treatment of Aristonicus. 
Portia cbuTd bear with an unshaken constancy her 
last separation from Brutus : out when she saw, some 
hours after, a picture of the parting of Hector and 
Andromache, she burst into a flood of tears. Full 
as seemed her sorrow, the painter suggested new 
ideas of grief, or impressed more strongly her own, 
I have somewhere met with a pretty story of an 
Athenian courtezan, who, in the midst of a riotous 
banquet with her lovers, accidentally cast her eye 
on the portrait of a philosopher, that hung opposite 
to her seat : the happy character of temperance and 
virtue, struck her with so lively an image of her own 
unworthiness, that she instantly quitted the mom : 

Edit. 1, H and, 


and, retiring home, became ever after an example of 
temperance, as she had been before of debauchery. 
You might tax me with doing injustice to the pre- 
sent times, were I to draw all my proofs from the 
ancient ; I appeal therefore to yourself, who have 
had an opportunity to prove it, whether you could 
look on the death of Germanicus, as painted by 
Poussin, without feeling a generous indignation at 
the cruelty of his oppressor, and an equal compas- 
sion for unhappy virtue. The representation of a 
plague, by the same Author, melts the soul into a 
tender participation of human miseries. These im- 
pressions end not here ; they give a turn to the mind 
advantageous to society ; every argument of sorrow, 
every object of distress, renews the same soft vibra- 
tions, and quickens us to acts of humanity and be- 
nevolence." Such are the sentiments of Mr. Webb. 
Morality, perhaps, may be truly but one, in its 
principles, and its Nature ; yet the modes of direct- 
ing our endeavours to promote it, may be several : 
they may, rather they must, be different, according 
to the difference of the vice they are required to 
correct ; it would be nugatory to excite parsimony 
to frugality, or to counsel extravagance to liberality. 
Morals, also, are either public, or private : to pri- 
vate morals suit private subjects; to public morals, 
suit subjects drawn from the important events which 
have contributed to the welfare, or to the injury, 
of states and communities : — the founding and em- 
bellishing of cities, the noble institutions of legis- 
lators, the improvement of mankind, by whatever 
means, and under whatever form, are subjects allied 



to public morals. Is an instance required of the 
utility of the Arts in this respect, we refer to the 
noble work of Mr. Barry, which certainly decides 
the question, in favour of that morality of which 
the Arts are susceptible. 

The public services of the Arts in respect of ho- 
norary rewards, to those who have deserved well of 
their country, and who have contributed to the ad- 
vantage of mankind, are too well known to need en- 
largement ; as they have been generally adopted 
wherever the Arts have flourished. Busts, statues, 
pictures, of heroes, of public benefactors, of men 
of learning, and of illustrious citizens, have ever 
been among (if they have not rather held the first 
place in) those distinctions which have been paid to 
merit ; and they have formed not merely the boast of 
the families descending from such honoured parents, 
but also of the cities, or the countries, which pro- 
duced the subjects of them : they have been, at the 
same time, tokens of grateful acknowledgment for 
benefits received, and of satisfaction tjiat such worth 
had adorned the community, while as means of ex- 
citing in the breasts of beholders, especially of 
youth, the most laudable exertions after the same 
degrees of virtue, and the warmest emulation of that 
merit which may expect similar rewards, their bene- 
ficial effect has been beyond Conception. 

Here, I think, I may safely conclude this dis- 
course ; I think I may safely infer, that the sub- 
ject, which is at once elegant, useful, and moral, 
which contributes to manifest, and to promote, the 
superiority of mankind over the creatures (in some 

H 2 respects 


respects our fellows), by affording fresh opportu- 
nities for the display of mental energies, by calling 
forth those energies from their obscurity into dis- 
tinction ; — such a subject , I say, must deserve 
esteem : especially, if it be recollected, that a ge- 
nius for this purpose, though not an ordinary, is yet 
a real, and valuable, gift of Nature, and capable of 
a thousand different applications. Be it remem- 
bered, also, that by this gift the busiest of cur senses 
(sight) is at once gratified and instructed, and the 
mind is improved and informed. Recollect too, the • 
numerous services which literature and knowledge re- 
ceive from the Arts, and the intimate acquaintance 
with Nature to which the Arts contribute ; recollect 
the creative powers of Art, which dart throughout 
existence, which controul, as it were, times past, 
present, and to come ; which re-animate the dead, 
and which anticipate future life. If affection for our 
friends, if esteem for the worthy, if curiosity, laud- 
able curiosity, warm our bosoms, we shall confess 
our obligations to the Arts : if we desire that our 
dwellings should be embellished, that our personal 
appearance should be respectable, — in short, if we 
wish to cultivate our genius, to regulate our minds, 
and to improve our morals, let us do justice to the 
Arts of Design, by a favourable opinion of their 
tendency, by a resolute study of their principles, 
and by a virtuous application of their powers. 





Ladies and Gentlemen, 

VV E have laid it down as a principle, that Nature, 
who does nothing in vain, has imparted to some per- 
sons peculiar talents and dispositions in favour of the 
Arts ; while at the same time we affirmed, that the 
natural abilities which are usually possessed by indi- 
viduals are capable of great improvement in this re- 
spect, under proper cultivation. We have offered, 
some observations, whose influence might tend to 
excite in the bosoms of our auditory, desires of 
such cultivation ; and our wish is, that such desires 
may be brought into activity, and eventually be gra- 
tified. That indeed is the main object we have in 
view; and these remarks are but introductory to 
those principles of Art, which may justly be deemed 

Nevertheless, as the faculties, or qualities, of the 
human mind, are at all times important and pleasing 
subjects of inquiry, before we proceed to the prac- 


tice of Art, permit the introduction of a few sug- 
gestions on that disposition of mind which is favour- 
able to the reception of its principles, and on that 
particular end which Art ever studies to accom- 

Much has been said on the subject of Genius, 
which has been regarded as a peculiar gift of hea- 
ven, an intuitive excellence, not acquired, but na- 
tural : without meaning to controvert this opinion, 
at the same time, I must own, that attention, and 
study, seem to me to have had a very considerable 
(if not the greater) share in the formation of capital 
Artists. It is certain the eminence and the merit of 
some masters are incontestable, while their genius 
has been the subject of doubt, even among their 

Nothing is more difficult than to define that dis- 
position of mind which is termed Genius : to reason 
clearly on any mental faculty, is not easy ; on this, 
which comprehends and combines almost every ob- 
ject in nature, our reasonings experience peculiar 

The minds of some men not only grasp at, but 
also seem to attain, a very general knowledge of Na- 
ture ; they treat with equal facility the sublime beau- 
ties of historic composition, agreeable scenes of 
landscape, portraits from life, and many various sub- 
jects. Others, apparently more confined, arp con- 
tent t6 rank as proficients in a single branch ; the 
inclination of these directs them to the study of 
heads, or ruins, of still life, or of decoration only ; 
departments of Art which appear to such persons 



most agreeable studies, while minds apparently more 
extensive disregard them as trifles. 

Shall we then suppose, that, in one instance, Ge- 
nius is adapted to wider scenes of Art, to more exten- 
sive, and sublimer views of things ; and in the other 
instance, that Genius is equally adapted to those 
which seem narrower, and perhaps contracted ? Is it 
still Genius, and of the same kind, but differently 
directed ; or, is it a peculiarity proper to each, and 
a distinction in the nature of Genius itself? Would 
those abilities which seem constructed on a great 
scale, be equally at home on a smaller scale ; and 
those constructed on a smaller scale, would they be 
equally at home on the larger scale, had such been 
the lot in life of their respective possessors ? These 
questions are very difficult to answer : but perhaps 
it is best to admit, that in all mental endowments 
there are infinite shades of distinction ; is it not so 
in poetry, in philosophy, in mathematics ; why not 
then in the Arts ? the construction of the mind is va- 
rious in various persons, and perhaps no two persons 
are precisely equal in any one talent, but each is 
superior to the other in some particular instances. 

Or shall we endeavour to distinguish between in- 
clination and Genius by supposing, that a separate 
branch of Art may suffice the former, while the lat- 
ter desires universal attainment ? Or, shall we say, 
that inclination may subsist without efficient talents ? 
that not all who feel themselves excited to these ele- 
gant studies, are endowed with 'the happy abi- 
lities requisite to excel in them ? Certain it is, 
not a few who. seem to desire proficiency in them 



evidently fall short of excellence : but the most 
frequent causes of this failure, are, I apprehend, 
their unfortunate ignorance of the proper path at 
first setting cut, together with a certain listless- 
ness, and indifference, which are insuperable ob- 
structions to those who indulge them. 

This idea may perhaps be supported by contrary 
instances : first, of persons who seem to have had 
the most promising abilities, who yet have been mis- 
led by vanity, bewildered by misinformation, or en- 
ervated by indolence ; so that their time, their ta- 
lents, and themselves, were lest, as to any benefit, 
in any degree comparable to what might justly have 
been expected from them ; as on the contrary, some 
we have known, and others we have heard of, who, 
though regarded as destitute of Genius, properly 
speaking, yet by diligent application under good in- 
struction, have attained a very honourable station 
among the most reputable professors. But if vanity, 
misinformation, or indolence, have slain their thou- 
sands, I think I may safely say, dissipation has slain 
its ten thousands : there is nothing so ruinous to Art 
as dissipation indulged by those who cultivate it. I 
need but appeal to daily observation in proof of this 

It is unnecessary, I suppose, at this time, to en- 
ter very largely, or very accurately, into a disquisi- 
tion on the subject of Genius : to point out the • 
leading principles of it, as applied to our present 
purpose, will be sufficient ; and therefore I beg leave, 
not without considerable diffidence, to submit the fol- 
lowing thoughts on this subject to candid attention. 



Whether inclination be, or be not, Genius, it 
is the first requisite in a student. Not from that 
person whose desires are languid, whose disposi- 
tion is frivolous, and wandering, is any considerable 
progress to be expected : never yet were supine 
wishes, and dilatory efforts, rewarded with success. 
The Arts scorn to yield to such frigid suitors : their 
favourable regards are only to be acquired by per- 
severance, and diligence ; to obtain the crown they 
bestow, animated endeavours, and laudable emula- 
tion, must continue to be exerted. 

I believe it is true of every profession, that reso- 
lution to be a master of it is the ready way to attain 
that character; and this is not less true in the Arts: 
but perhaps the Arts have one peculiar advantage, 
in the pleasure they yield to the student as he ad- 
vances in the practice of them ; so that they may 
be said to be perpetually, as well as proportion- 
ately, rewarding those who study them. 

To the acquisition of any Art or Science, the 
possession of that capacity which is visually im- 
parted to our species is unquestionably necessary: 
the ideot, the stupid, the perverse, are little im- 
proveable by tuition: to plant upon the rock, or to 
sow upon the sand, is not the most likely way to 
obtain a crop. But there is a principle necessary 
to a student, distinct from what is commonly termed 
natural capacity; I mean, that quality of mind, 
which we call docility. Docility may be regard- 
ed as teachableness in general ; or, as a happy dis- 
position to acquire some particular science; in 
which sense we take it here. 

Vol. I. I If 


If the mind be not possessed of docility, imbib- 
ing readily the advice of a master, treasuring up, 
reasoning' on, and applying it, as circumstances oc- 
cur, farewell every expectation of success ; but 
where the mind, as it were, surveys an object on all 
sides, carefully investigates it's appearance, prin- 
ciples, and properties, undismayed by difficulties, 
or ingenuously states them to those to whom they 
are familiar, and by whom they have been often 
overcome, then we may justly hope, that time and 
experience, will ripen such a mind to an honour- 
able maturity. 

A lively and vigorous imagination is a very 
considerable part of Genius. Most productions of 
Art may be denominated specimens of the Artist's 
imagination: .no one supposes an Artist ever saw a 
groupe of figures, exactly in the same attitudes, 
lights, and shadows, as he presents them in his 
pictures ; that is nothing more than a copy of a 
composition formed in his mind, and transmitted 
on the canvas by the skill of his hand. If his ima- 
gination be frigid and heavy, the same faults will 
be communicated to the piece; if it be enthusiastic 
and wild, such will be his performance. A fertile 
fancy, indeed, may be restrained by precept; re- 
flection and study, may reject many ideas which 
present themselves, and, by selecting the happiest 
and most graceful, may not only moderate, but of- 
ten prevent, extravagance; while the coldly-con- 
ceptive mind, whose imagination is scarcely moved 
by its subject, can hardly be expected to surpass 
mediocrity, though surrounded by the greatest 
advantages, and the best assistance. It 


It must be confessed, that the fancy of some mas- 
ters has not only deviated from Nature, but from pro- 
bability, and possibility likewise; the centaur, the 
griffin, the sphinx, and other monsters, are instances 
of this : theycan only be'defended, or rather tolerated, 
by referring them to the class of emblematical com- 
positions, whose liberty is little other than licenti- 
ousness : yet, even in these extravagant forms, there 
is often something more striking and agreeable, than 
in the tasteless productions of torpid frigidity. 

Imagination is a warm, active, expansive, faculty 
of the mind; it is boundless in its nature, in its con- 
ceptions, and ideas, and claims the privilege of be- 
ing so: to confine it, is to injure it; closely to con- 
fine it, is to destroy it; it delight© in that boldness, 
that vivacity, that stretch of thought, which it is not 
the lot of all to possess, but which, when possessed, 
designs and attempts whatever is surprising. Imagi- 
nation has, in itself, neither moderation nor check ; 
to controul, to restrain, to counterpoise it, we must 
seek other principles, and engage other qualities. 

A delicate sensibility, which feels, as it were, 
intuitively, the impressions of picturesque beauty, 
should ever accompany a lively imagination. By 
this principle an Artist must select, or combine, 
the attractions of beauty, must distinguish the va- 
riety of images collected in idea, and determine 
their relation to the business under conception ; 
must frequently separate what imagination had 
united, and restrain, or indulge, the vivacity of 
fancy. To this contribute a kind of tenderness of 
mind, a well-educated, well-informed understand- 

1 2 ing, 


ing, with a propriety of reflection consequent. on 
accurate information: this is of the highest value, 
where kind Nature has graciously imparted it, and 
where it has been matured by liberal studies. 

Whether judgment may properly claim a place, 
as a part of Genius, I will not determine ; without 
it, Genius cannot attain to considerable merit or 
applause, because others who possess this faculty 
themselves, will unanimously condemn the great- 
est talents if they do not exhibit its influence; or 
if for a while, or in any single instance, a want of 
judgment may be overlooked, yet time, or closer 
attention, will certainly detect the deficiency. 

Like a ship without its rudder, Genius, void of 
Judgment, may make a fair appearance at a distance, 
and seem to hold its course amid the billowing deep, 
but its success can be only seeming ; for indeed it is 
the sport of winds, and agitated by every wave. 

Judgment has been considered as a principle, 
whereby we determine not only on the excellence 
of what is presented to tis in one whole, but like- 
wise on the several parts ; and not only on the parts 
distinctly, but also of their union in one whole ; 
its principal branches are Knowledge and Taste. 

Knowledge is an acquired quality; a quality re- 
sulting principally from a habit of enquiry, and stu- 
dy of reflection, of comparison, and of estimate- 
Knowledge is not an original quality, like ignor- 
ance; but it is the active antagonist of ignorance; 
which it gradually corrects, subdues, and displaces. 
After having made many mistakes, the mind be- 
comes less exposed to mistake; it forms more ac- 


curate opinions, sees more clearly the just value of 
things, and more readily ranks them according, to 
their fair claims and proper places. Knowledge 
is to be acquired — by reading the works of those 
who have best written — by inspecting the best re- 
presentations of the best Artists — by considering 
the ends they had in view — by examining whether 
their labours were well directed in the choice of such 
ends — and whether they have selected the best me- 
thods to accomplish them. The conversation, the 
remarks, and opinions, of liberal and competent 
judges, greatly conduce to the perfection of know- 
ledge, as well as to its acquisition'; and, indeed where 
they can be enjoyed, they become not only the most 
pleasant, but often the most permanent mode of ac- 
quiring just and honourable ideas of merit: and I 
am sure this mode of acquiring knowledge conduces 
greatly to abate the rigour of criticism; because 
many things in respect to the difficulties, peculiari- 
ties, or situations, of Art, of Artists, and of Pa- 
trons, may be illustrated and explained in discourse, 
which perhaps are not properly understood, nor 
can be properly understood, without this advantage. 
Taste is a faculty, the analysis of which has many 
difficulties, arising chiefly from the diversity of 
which it is capable. It is very embarrassing to ob- 
serve how differently persons reason respecting 
Taste; or how capriciously they determine by what 
they esteem its impulse without reasoning. It is 
equally perplexing to account wherefore what at 
one time seems contrary to just taste, at another 
time is thought perfectly coincident with it. Hence 



has arisen the proverb, " there is no disputing upon 
Taste." I shall therefore, as best suited to my pre- 
sent purpose, consider Taste under the simple idea 
of a selecting quality: it selects the most agreeable 
and appropriate objects to form a 'whole; it selects 
the most agreeable and appropriate parts to form an 
object; and having selected them, it unites them in 
the most pleasing manner. We say, first, it selects 
parts :'-— it rejects those which have no common prin- 
ciple of propriety, or fitness; those which are too 
big, too little, too simple, too complex, or too any- 
thing, one for another ; m short, those which do not 
match, by having some happy relation to each other : 
but, those parts, the reciprocal and harmonious fit- 
ness of which determines their adoption, Taste as- 
sociates, and combines into an object; placing them 
to the best advantage, and giving to each respective- 
ly its most proper place, and station; — taken from 
which the whole suffers by the change: the part is 
diminished in its effect, the object is diminished in 
its importance. The exertions of Taste are com- 
pleted when well-selected objects are happily 
formed into one well-disposed whole; in which (as 
before) it is evident that each has its most advanta- 
geous situation, and produces the fullest effect of 
which it is capable. 

This very naturally leads ns to enquire what are 
the objects of Taste? what does it propose? the an- 
swer is ready, beauty. Beauty, is what Genius, 
directed by Taste, by Knowledge, by Judgment, by 
-Sensibility, and assisted by Imagination, proposes 
as its great end; for this it studies, and for this it 

executes ; 


executes ; for this it roves in the regions of Fancy, or 
soars into the realms of unembodied conceptions • 
content, nay even gratified, on its return, if it be 
thought to have imported Beauty. But what is 
Beauty ?— to this question we shall endeavour to of- 
fer a distinct though concise answer, so far as re- 
gards our subject: in which, however, we shall be 
under the necessity, in some degree, of appealing 
to observations already made; and of illustrating 
and amplifying remarks on certain principles, the 
influence of which has been already suggested.' 

Objects are valuable for their utility or for their 
elegance. The utility of an article depends on the 
wants of those to whom it is useful ; and those wants 
are various as the nations, the individuals, the oc- 
currences, under heaven. Elegance is an advance 
on utility: necessaries are objects of desire previous 
to what is refined or polite; but no sooner are the 
necessities of mankind supplied, than they turn 
their thoughts to what appears convenient, agree- 
able, or ornamental. 

Our present attention is directed to an Art the 
principles of which aspire to the highest elegance- 
an Art, simple in operation, and easy in practice' 
yet founded on much reflection, and requiring ex- 
ertions of powers of the mind, as well as of powers 
of the hand. The ignorant applaud the result of 
these principles, without understanding by what 
magic they are fascinated; and adepts admire them 
not only for their force, but also for the innumerable 
combinations of which they are capable,-for the 
exquisite beauty they produce. 



The fascination of beauty is universally acknow- 
ledged: — what eye, or heart, refuses subjection? 
To account for this dominion, writers who have 
investigated the subject, have suggested, according 
to their respective feelings, a variety of sentiments, 
not always indeed satisfactory, though ingenious, 
nor always coincident in opinion: yet perhaps their 
differences are not so extreme as may sometimes 
be inferred from their expressions. 

Without pretending to advance any new hypo- 
thesis, I content myself with stating, in the simplest 
manner, what in my judgment are the principles of 
this quality; or so closely connected with it, as 
properly to be esteemed parts of it. 

The source of thmt pleasure we receive from in- 
specting certain objects, is usually understood by 
the term beauty ; what are the constituent princi- 
ples of beauty we now proceed to enquire. 

The human mind is in its nature so alert and vigor- 
ous, that it scarcely ever ceases from action: while 
the senses are in exercise it cannot refrain from ob- 
servation on surrounding objects; and having, by 
constant reflection, obtained a competent know- 
ledge of their uses and designation, it calculates very 
accurately (though withou t al ways perceiving it) the 
fitness or unfitness of most things to the services for 
which they are intended : hence to see vast weights 
sustained by a slender prop, occasions pain and dis- 
gust; on the other hand, massy pillars employed in 
supporting a trivial burden, excite our contempt; 
while the examination of a contrivance happilyadap- 
ted to its purpose, affords us satisfaction; this satis- 


faction results from fitness, as from unfitness result 
pain and disgust. And because this principle is conti- 
nuallyexercised by the eye, and is appealed to on every 
occasion, it becomes the very foundation of Beauty, 
and with good reason is placed first on the subject. 

We need no circuitous logic to prove that uti- 
lity, or fitness, is a principle necessary to Beauty : 
what should we think of buildings, or of their ac- 
commodations, were they destitute of fitness? Sup- 
pose, for instance, the steps of a magnificent edifice, 
under pretence of conformity to other parts, w r ere 
enlarged to double or treble their convenient, or 
suitable height; should we commend the skill of the 
architect? Let the same ideas prevail throughout 
all the accommodations of such an edifice; the fur- 
niture as well as the onuiments; the beds, construct- 
ed on this prodigious scale, may repose giants, but 
not ordinary men; and persons no taller than our- 
selves may look up to the chairs and tables, though 
sons of Anak might find them not inconvenient. 
, There are, it is true, many subjects which cannot 
be tried by this rule: can we determine on the fitness 
of rocks and mountains? certainly not; neither shall 
we select rocks and mountains as examples of this 
part of Beauty: the scale by which mankind usually 
judge, is derived from the customary dimensions of 
the human frame; it assumes not to measure the stu- 
pendous productions of Omnipotence; but as they 
are, undoubtedly, suited to the purposes they fulfil, 
they display fitness also for their stations, and there- 
fore contribute to support the general proposition, — 
that one source of Beauty is derived from the fitness 
of objects for their application. 

Vol. I. K The 


The consequences flowing, from this principle may 
contribute to account for the diversity of opinions 
among' various nations, respecting what is handsome, 
or ornamental, in form or figure; the htness of utensils 
and implements to the purposes for which they are de- 
signed, unquestionably invests them with an elegance 
in the eye of those most familiar with their utility; 
though strangers with difficulty discern their beauty. 

The second principle in Beauty is variety. Need 
I demonstrate that the same, and the same, is tedi- 
ous? that incessant repetition is fatiguing? The eye 
is quickly satiated without variety, and must be re- 
created by change either of object, or of situation. 
Hence arises the beauty of landscape; it admits an 
almost infinite diversity of forms, in trees, buildings, 
clouds, &c: of colours, m thciwarious hues, green, 
brown, or blue, with ten thousand different shades. 
Yet we consider a landscape as imperfect, if desti- 
tute of water, which reflects both forms and colours ; 
and, by this reflection, greatly increases variety: 
not only by reversing the objects seen in it, but by 
imparting a peculiar and characteristic softness to 
their reflected tints. Here, too, we discover the 
beauty of rocks and mountains: their huge masses, 
and shapeless forms, judiciously introduced, impart 
a diversity, a contrast, and a grandeur, peculiar to 

The eye, in this respect, resembles the ear, which 
suffers by monotony, and quickly tires under the 
continuation of the same note : if it be that of an 
instrument, what uneasiness till the tone ceases ! if 
it be that of a public speaker, it scarely endures his 
very reasonings till his voice changes ^ and after 



long awaiting* such change, if it be thought distant, 
the sense is almost ready to repose in slumber. The 
sense of tasting, also, finds no regale stimulative, 
without variety ; and the same viands, for ever, if 
consistent with necessity, is inconsistent with ele- 
gance : so the eye, confined to the continued sight 
of the same walls, the same blank walls ! the same 
dead walls ! longs for some diversity, and impa- 
tiently solicits relief from its surrounding prison. 

But Variety may be deprived of its effect by ex- 
tending it to extremes : an heterogeneous assem- 
blage of parts, without correspondence, or relation 
— (to which, excessive variety tends), is not less dis- 
gusting than unvaried sameness. To check, there- 
fore, the wildness and eccentricity of this principle, 
when ill understood, or misapplied, we introduce in 
the next place uniformity, or symmetry, as a third 
ingredient in Beauty. By this, we mean a regular, 
analogous, and harmonious, coincidence of parts to 
each other; so that the whole appears to be the happy 
result of well-employed skill and contrivance. 

Let us examine, with this idea in our mind, the 
labours of the Architect: a well-composed building 
usually exhibits a centre, with wings on each side : 
the resemblance of the wings to each other is so ne- 
cessary (where both may be seen at once) that no 
structure, in which it is neglected, appears complete 
or finished ; but the eye, in association with the 
judgment, receives a painful sensation, the conse- 
quence of a felt deficiency : a deficiency of uniform- 
ity or correspondence in the parts of the structure. 
And so accurate is the decision of a well-practised 
K 2 eye 


eye on this principle, that objects, which by acci- 
dent are more inclined to one side than to the other, 
Or are not truly in the same plane, offend by their 
want of exactness; we fancy them ready to fall, 
though in reality they may be free from danger. 
Again, if we examine the centre of this building, if 
the principal entrance, instead of being in the mid- 
dle, is thrust on one side (thereby dividing the 
spaces on each side of it into unequal portions) the 
eye detects the blemish instantly ; it rather wishes for 
a mere wicket in the middle, than for a spacious door 
on one side : — but, if there be two doors, set at pro- 
per distances from the sides, and from the centre, 
then uniformity is restored again, and all is well. 

Mr. Hogarth, in his ' Analysis of Beauty,' adds 
to the foregoing principles intricacy, and simpli- 
city ; I have rather considered them as included : 
a copious variety can never want sufficient intricacy, 
nor a just uniformity want pleasing simplicity; but 
he shall speak for himself. 

" It may be imagined that the greatest part of 
the effects of Beauty results from the symmetry of 
parts in the object which is beautiful : but I am 
very well persuaded, this prevailing notion will soon 
appear to have little or no foundation. 

" It may indeed have properties of greater con- 
sequence, such as propriety, fitness, and use ; and 
yet but little serve the purposes of pleasing the eye, 
merely on the score of beauty. 

" We have, indeed, in our nature, a love of imi- 
tation from our infancy, and the eye is often enter- 
tained, as well as surprised, with mimicry, and de- 


lighted with the exactness of counterparts ; but 
then this always gives way to its superior love of 
variety, and soon grows tiresome. 

" If the uniformity of figures, parts, or lines, 
were truly the chief cause of Beauty, the more ex- 
actly uniform their appearances were kept, the more 
pleasure the eye would receive : but this is so far 
from being the case, that when the mind has been 
once satisfied that the parts answer one another, with 
so exact an uniformity, as to preserve to the whole 
the character of fitness — to stand, to move, to sink, 
to swim, to fly, &c. without losing the balance ; the 
eye is rejoiced to see the object turned, and shifted, 
so as to vary these uniform appearances. 

" Thus the profiles of most objects, as well as 
faces, are rather more pleasing than their full fronts. 

" Whence it is clear, the pleasure does not arise 
from seeing the exact resemblance which one side 
bears to the other, but from the knowledge that they 
do so on account of fitness, with design, and for use. 
For when the head of a fine woman is turned a little 
to one side, which takes off from the exact simila- 
rity of the two halves of the face, and somewhat 
reclining, so varying still more from the straight and 
parallel lines of a formal front face, it is always 
looked upon as most pleasing. This is accordingly 
said to be a graceful air of the head. 

" It is a constant rule of composition in painting, 
to avoid regularity. When we view a building, or 
any other object in life, we have it in our power, by 
shifting the ground, to take that view of it which 
pleases us best • and, in consequence of this, the 



painter (if he is left to his choice) takes it on the 
angle rather than in front, as most agreeable to the 
eye ; because the regularity of the lines is taken 
away by their running into perspective, without 
losing the idea of fitness: and when he is of necessity 
obliged to give the front of a building, with all its 
equalities and parallelisms, he generally breaks (as 
it is termed) such disagreeable appearances, by 
throwing a tree before it, or the shadow of an ima- 
ginary cloud, or some other object that may answer 
the same purpose of adding variety, which is the 
same with taking away uniformity 

" In my mind, odd numbers have the advantage 
over the even ones, as variety is more pleasing than 
uniformity, where the same end is answered by both ; 
and I catmut help unserving, that nature, in all her 
works of fancy, if I may be allowed the expression, 
where it seems immaterial whether even or odd 
numbers of divisions were preferred, most frequently 
employs the odd ; as for example, in the indenting 
of leaves, flowers, blossoms, &c. 

" The oval, also, on account of its variety with 
simplicity, is as much to be preferred to the circle 
as the triangle to the square, or the pyramid to the 
cube ; and this figure lessened at one end, like the 
e^, thereby being more varied, is singled out by 
the Author of all variety, to bound the features of a 
beautiful face. 

" When the oval has a little more of the cone 
added to it than the e^s; has, it becomes more dis- 
tinctly a compound of those two most simple varied 
figures. This is the shape of the pine-apple, which 



Nature has particularly distinguished by bestowing 
rich ornaments of mosaic upon it, composed of con- 
trasted serpentine lines ; and the pips, as the gar- 
deners call them, are still varied by two cavities, and 
one round eminence in each. 

" Could a more elegant simple form than this have 
been found, it is probable that judicious Architect, 
Sir Christopher Wren, would not have chosen 
the pine-apples for the two terminations of the sides 
of the front of St. Paul's : and perhaps the globe and 
cross, though a finely varied figure, which terminates 
the dome, would not have had the preference of situa- 
tion, if a religious motive had not been the occasion. 

" Thus we see simplicity gives beauty even to 
variety, as it makes it more easily understood, and 
should be ever studied in the works of Art, as it 
serves to prevent perplexity in forms of elegance. 

" The hair of the head is another very obvious 
instance, which, being designed chiefly as an orna- 
ment, proves more or less so, according to the form 
it naturally takes, or is put into by art. The most 
amiable in itself is the flowing curl ; and the many 
waving and contrasted turns of naturally inter- 
mingling locks ravish the eye with the pleasure of 
the pursuit, especially when they are put in motion 
by a gentle breeze. The Poet knows it, as well as 
the Painter, and has described the Wanton ringlets 
waving in the wind. 

" And yet to shew how excess ought to be avoided 
in intricacy, as well as in every other principle, the 
very same head of hair, wisped and matted together, 
would make the most disagreeable figure; because 



the eye would be perplexed, and at a fault, and un- 
able to trace such a confused number of discomposed 
and entangled lines." 

After ail that has been said on this subject, none 
but a visionary would think of inventing a system of 
beauty reducible to mathematical rules : mankind 
are divided on this matter, as on every other : what 
appears beautiful to one person, is beheld with indif- 
ference by another ; it is deemed insipidity, if not de- 
formity. The same contrariety of opinion prevails 
among' nations, as among individuals, each supposing 
those sentiments most just, those manners most 
pleasing, those features most beautiful, which cha- 
racterize the native land. 

If I were endeavouring to account for this preju- 
dice in favour of the beauty of our own country, 
perhaps I should advert to a certain selfishness in hu- 
man nature which is absolutely inseparable from it. 
Man has no conception of any being or form, in 
beauty, superior to his own (though he grants in 
hypothesis there may be many); contemplating him- 
self, therefore, as the summit of excellence, he com- 
pares other forms with the human ; and, according to 
their similarity, or diversity,he approves or condemns. 

It is pleasant to trace the variety of reasons as- 
signed by man for his own superiority: some animals 
are too heavy, others are too light; quadrupeds are 
too prone, birds are too erect; fish cannot compare, 
they resemble us in nothing; yet we are dissatisfied 
with the monkey race, they resemble us too nearly. 

This prejudice, which is common to the species, 
inhabits every individual; where it most abounds, 



and expands, it is the basis of that disagreeable pas- 
sion we term self-love; but though it may stop short 
of that excess, though a person may not regard him- 
self as perfection, or attribute faultless elegance to 
his own figure, yet being always conversant with it, 
and never wholly free from a certain degree of this 
predilection, he settles at length into more or less of 
self-satisfaction, and derives most delight from what 
most nearly resembles himself. The fact, I say, is, 
that whatever is related to ourselves, is in our es- 
teem more excellent than the possessions, or acqui- 
sitions of others. 

Though we so lately called it " pleasant" to trace 
the variety of reasons, assigned by man for his supe- 
riority in form and appearance over the creatures in 
general, yet it may not be improper to offer, at least, 
a slight examination of the human figure, in respect 
to the beauty of its composition. Let us try it by 
applying the rules, and the qualities, which we have 
supposed to constitute Beauty. 

I. Fitness. — Of this we obtain the idea by expe- 
rience : we can never tell whether any part (as of a 
machine, or mechanical engine, so also of the hu- 
man body) will answer its purpose, till it has been 
tried; but if we have been used to remark, that a 
part (or limb) of a certain construction, has con- 
stantly hitherto done its duty, then we conclude that 
another part, resembling it, possesses the same fit- 
ness. This is so true, that when a limb has really 
lost its powers, yet, if it has not lost its shape, the 
eye feels no regret, because it has not been used to 
receive regret from that shape in that subject. On 

Vol. I. L the 


the contrary, could such a thing be, as that a limb, 
although varied in form, should not really be weak- 
ened in power, yet the eye would regard it as weak- 
ened, because it had ordinarily observed that effect 
to follow that cause. 

Anatomists delight to trace fitness in the bones; 
their construction and forms abound in this quality; 
and in the muscles, the connexions and powers of 
which they can demonstrate; but we rather chuse to 
exemplify this by a comparison of parts more fami- 
liar to our usual perceptions and notice. Compare, 
if you please, the different services we expect from 
the hand, and from the foot; and observe the fitness 
of each to its station. The bones which compose 
these two members are greatly alike, in number, and 
in situation; but, as the hand is called to most uses, 
it has greater variety of motion, greater flexibility, 
greater ability of containing, of grasping, and greater 
extent of action : the foot is a straight forward thing; 
the hand acts on all sides; each then is equally fitted for 
its place, though unequally composed as to powers. 

II. Variety. — Our second principle of Beauty 
is decidedly in favour of the hand; being capable of 
greater variety of action, it assumes an incomparably 
greater variety of appearance; greater variety as a 
whole, and greater variety in each of its parts. I sup-- 
pose I need pursue this no farther, as few Would 
prefer the foot to the hand in point of Beauty. 

But variety characterizes the general forms through- 
out the human figure; the wrist differs from he 
hand in appearance; observe the still further change 
as we rise along the arm, how gradually it swells to- 


ward the elbow, — which joint again varies its form, 
— then from the elbow till it rounds at the shoulder; 
the whole exhibits great variety, though great sim- 
plicity of form: — united with great titness. 

III. Symmetry — reigns throughout the human 
figure: the trunk of the figure is simple, yet varied 
in form and dimensions throughout: the members 
are varied, but all with coincident uniformity : the 
feet, the hands, the arms, the shoulders, &c. are 
pairs; they match, through every attitude, or dis- 
position, at once infinitely various in appearance, 
yet strictly similar in resemblance. 

But the beauty of the figure is not, among us, so 
correctly appreciated as the beauty of the face: and 
to this part the same principles apply. Variety in 
form — the forehead, brows, eyes, cheeks, ears, lips, 
— in fact throughout the whole : Symmetry — as the 
features match, eye to eye, brow to brow, cheek to 
cheek, ear to ear. Variety in colour — the darker 
tone of the hair, the lighter of the forehead, the va- 
riation introduced by the eyebrow, the eye, with its 
splendid white, the roseate cheek, the ruby lip, &c. 
yet these also harmonize ; and in colour no less than 
in form, eye matches to eye, cheek to cheek, and ear 
to ear. 

Variety is undoubtedly greatly augmented by the 
infinitely changing movements of which the neck is 
capable; these, in every aspect of the head, contri- 
bute essentially to grace, without diminishing Sym- 
metry ; they rather induce the eye to regard part as 
corresponding to part, even while unseen: I mean, 
that the eye infers the perfect conformity of the 

L 2 parts 


parts it does not see, to those it does see; and thus 
it composes one resembling whole, agreeably to our 

By this slight investigation we see that reasons, 
and reasons not contemptible, are not wanting in 
justification of our attributing very high degrees of 
Beauty to the human figure ; how far the same prin- 
ciples may justify those infinitely varied appendages 
to the person with which fancy has contrived to 
adorn it, we decline to enquire: I am unwilling to 
say on this article also, " whatever relates to our- 
selves is in our esteem most excellent," though I 
doubt not but the sentiment might very properly be 
introduced in support of considerations related to 
such an equiry. 

On the whole, and by way of conclusion to this 
discourse, we infer, that, 

Since ideas of elegance are so various, since much 
false beauty is imposed on the world as genuine, — 
while we allow the utmost liberty of opinion, — yet 
I say, we infer, that, to have the natural genius and 
taste competently improved, and cultivated, is very 
desirable: it is an advantage lasting as life. And as 
there appears to be a foundation in nature for the 
principles adduced, we shall continue to think that 
there cannot be beauty without fitness, since un- 
fitness occasions disgust; nor without variety, 
since perpetual repetition is tiresome; nor without 
symmetry, since chaotic confusion is distracting. 





Ladies and Gentlemen, 

LT is true that genius and inclination for a parti- 
cular study, may, by labour and assiduity, surmount 
many difficulties ; yet to remove impediments from 
the path of science, is a grateful task, and genius 
will feel and acknowledge the obligation ; for those 
who are most capable^f profiting by instruction, are 
usually most sensible of its value. ♦ 

The Arts, dependent on design, embrace a great 
variety of subjects, and require an equal variety 
of precepts; not to perplex our attention by em- 
bracing too many at once, I propose to treat them 

The Art of Drawing, as the foundation of all 
others, claims our first attention. The acknowledged 
utility of this elegant and ornamental art, greatly 
enhances its value: not confined to painters, en- 
gravers, embroiderers, &c. professions, whose em- 
ployments evidently depend on it, this Art is daily 
practised by the mathematician, engineer, navigator, 



and others, who acknowledge its services; and by 
the polite, the liberal, and the accomplished, who 
esteem its elegance. 

Drawing is the art of representing the appearances 
of objects: it expresses their resemblance by lines 
and shadows ; and, in its higher branches, it opens 
to the inspection of others the conceptions of the 
designer's mind. 

The materials used in drawings are Pens, black- 
lead Pencils, camels' hair Pencils, Indian-ink, and 
India-rubber; Chalks, white, red, and black; aT 
square, a parallel Ruler, and Compasses. Various 
sorts of Paper are used to work on: for Indian-ink, 
white and fine; for chalk, more rough and coarse; 
for black and white chalks, blue, or brown, &c. ac- 
cording to the fancy of the Artist. 

The use of the black-lead Pencil is to form an 
accurate outline for smaller objects, to be afterwards 
finished in Indian-ink; India-rubber erases black- 
Ifead lines very neatly ; the T square, ruler, and 
compasses, are necessary in drawing Perspective, 
Architecture, &c. but should never be applied to 
figures; the student should learn to see them cor- 
rectly without such injurious assistance: as a great 
master expressed himself, " the compasses should 
be in the eye, not in the hand." 

I wish to inform my young friends, that it is of 
consequence to have good materials ; to purchase 
those which are but indifferent, is not genuine eco- 
nomy ; as they not only give great trouble in work- 
ing, but may perhaps occasion disgust with the 
Art, or dissatisfaction with one's-self without cause. 



As to Pens, they need no explanation, or caution, 
in respect of their goodness. Black-lead Pencils 
are to be known only by experience; though the 
character of the maker may be some security. 

In chusing camels' hair Pencils, moisten them a 
very little, and draw them through the lips, so as to 
discover whether all the hairs contribute to form a 
true and regular termination; reject those which 
split into different parcels, and those wherein some 
of the hairs are longer than the proper point. 

Indian-ink is an admirable composition, not 
fluid like our writing inks, but solid like our mi- 
neral colours, though much lighter. It is made in 
all figures, but the most usual is rectangular, about 
a quarter of an inch thick. Sometimes the sticks 
are gilt with various devices. 

To use this ink, there must be a little hollow 
marble (to be had at any colour-shop) or other stone, 
with water in it, on which the stick of ink must be 
rubbed, till the water becomes of a sufficient black- 
ness. A Dutch tile, or piece of ivory, or other 
neat substance, may serve as a substitute. It makes 
a very black shining ink; and, though apt to sink 
when the paper is thin, yet it never runs or spreads; 
so that the lines drawn with it are always smooth, 
and evenly terminated, how large soever they be. 
It is of great use in designing, because its tone of 
colour may be augmented or diminished at pleasure. 
It is imitated by mixing lamp black, prepared from 
linseed oil (by hanging a large copper pan over the 
flame of a lamp to receive its smoke) with as much 



melted glue as is requisite to form it into cakes: 
these cakes, when dry, answer well enough in regard 
both to colour, and to freedom and smoothness of 
working. Ivory black and other charcoal blacks, 
levigated very tine, have the same effect with lamp- 

It is not easy to distinguish the best Indian-ink 
from the inferior; the usual manner is by rubbing 
the stick on the back of the hand, or any other 
place previously wetted; but, frequently, the sticks 
are coated with a fine sort, and the part within is 
worthless. The makers generally scent the best ink 
with the best musk. 

In using Indian-ink it should always be remem- 
bered, that a light colour may be darkened by ad- 
ditional washing; but that which is too deep cannot 
be lightened: the safest and best way is, to proceed 
gradually from a weak tint, to a stronger, till the 
various parts obtain the force intended. 

White chalk is a fossil substance usually reck- 
oned a stone, but of the friable kind; it is sometimes 
found in powder, and has all the properties which 
characterize calcareous earths, but wants much of 
the weight and consistence of real stone. Tobacco- 
pipe clay is commonly used as a . substitute for 
white chalk, and for some purposes is superior. 

Red chalk is an earth of great use, and is com- 
mon in the colour-shops. It is properly an indurated 
clayey ochre, is dug in Germany, Italy, Spain, and 
France, but abounds most in Flanders. It is of a 
fine, even, and firm texture, very heavy, and hard 
(but when too hard, is troublesome to work with), 



is of a pale red on the outside, and of a deep dusky 
chocolate colour when broken. 

Black chalk is a light earthy substance, of a 
fine black colour, a compact and lurninated texture, 
and a smooth surface. It is easily reduced into an 
impalpable powder without injuring its colour : this 
useful earth comes from Italy (which sort is usually 
most esteemed for neater performances) and Germa- 
ny: but many parts of England and Wales furnish 
substances nearly, if not entirely, of the same quality, 
and equally serviceable, both for drawing, and as a 
black paint. 

Notwithstanding the greatest care in selecting the 
best pieces of chalk, they are liable to contain small 
stones, grit, &c. to remedy this evil, some who are cu- 
rious in this article, reduce the natural chalk to a fine 
powder, and (rejecting the refuse) mix with it a compo- 
sition, the chief ingredient of which is soap ; they then 
roll the whole into crayons of a proper size, and dry it 
carefully. Red chalk is much improved by this pro- 
cess. It is not worth while to labour at making, or 
imitating these articles; because they may readily 
be had almost lit for use from nature (requiring 
only cutting to a proper size), or they may be pro- 
cured from any colour-shop in town or country. 

A variety of Paper is used in this art : for Indian- 
ink, some use a smooth paper, artificially glazed by 
heat ; others prefer a more substantial kind, the edges 
of which they paste to the drawing-board, to keep it 
flat, and prevent it from shrinking. For red chalk, 
or black chalk, there are many various sorts ; their 
names I shall not here repeat. Blue paper is fre- 

Vol. I. M quently 


quently used for black and white chalks, the colour 
serving for the middle tints of the design, which is 
shadowed with black chalk, and heightened with 
white. A tinted paper of a brownish hue is sold for 
the same purpose, but is usually dear in its price. 
Substitutes are made several ways ; by staining white 
paper with bistre ; or with water coloured by tobacco- 
leaves ; or by boiling brewer's clay in beer, and striking- 
it on the paper with a sponge, as evenly as possible. 

I digress here, Ladies and Gentlemen, with 
design to offer a few hints by way of caution to 
beginners, respecting their attitude while at study ; 
nor let this be supposed a trivial concern, for I have 
had frequent occasion to observe, and lament, the 
irregular and injurious habits contracted by some 
young persons, for want of a little attention to this 

Why should the attitude of a Lady, or Gentleman, 
when drawing, be less graceful than when playing on 
a harpsichord ? A good posture is as readily at- 
tained as a bad one : and since the whole is habit, 
it is well worth while to remember this advice : a 
free, easy, upright attitude, is best both for a designer 
and his works. In fact, this caution equally respects 
the merits of a performance, the ease of the perform- 
er, and the preservation of health. 

It is a bad custom to place too near the eye the sub- 
ject to be copied : when very close, it not only pre- 
vents a distinct view of that correspondence of the 
several paris to each other which is indispensable, but 
also is not free from danger of rendering the eyes 
short-sighted. A similar danger attends the admis- 


sion of a very strong glare of light, either on the ori- 
ginal, or on the copy ; a clear steady light, but not 
too brilliant, is desirable. 

My young friends will take in good part these 
cautionary admonitions ; and happy shall I esteem 
myself, if they prove preventive of that indecorum, 
and of those evils, of which some have had too much 
reason to complain. 

To return to our subject: Before you begin to 
copy a performance, consider the original with at- 
tention, divide it in your mind into several parts ; 
observe the length, the breadth, and the similitude 
of each part ; remark their proportion to each other 
and to the whole ; their respective distances and si- 
tuations ; more especially attend to those objects or 
parts which fall perpendicular, or parallel, to others ; 
this rule, duly practised, will prevent material errors. 

As the excellence of Drawing consists in its ac- 
curacy, endeavour to render the sketch as correct as 
possible ; never proceed to shadow or finish any part 
of a drawing till the lines of the sketch have obtained 
a close resemblance to the original. Always remem- 
ber to begin at the left side of the paper, that the 
subject may be continually visible ; the right side of 
a drawing, if large, is liable to be injured by the right 
hand, or arm : and should be kept constantly covered, 
after the sketch is finished, by way of security. 

The learner should by all means draw his studies 
large, in order to avoid that confusion of lines which is 
almost inseparable from smaller subjects ; for, having 
once obtained a strong and distinct idea of an object, 
we find much less difficulty in reducing it, than in en- 

M 2 larging 


larging it. This premised, we rather advise, if con- 
venience permits, to commence the study of this noble 
art by drawing first in chalks (rather than Indian- 
ink), as they naturally induce a much more bold and 
free manner of handling, which is a very desirable 
acquisition. Ease and facility not only expedite 
business, but they give a certain master-like appear- 
ance, which the most elaborate precision cannot 

To begin a drawing in chalks ; first form a sketch 
from the original with a piece of charcoal of con- 
venient thickness and length ; this is the best mate- 
rial to sketch with, as it admits of being frequently 
rubbed out, consequently the outline may be render- 
ed very correct before it is finished. Always hold 
the port-crayon further from the point than a pen in 
writing, that it may not impede freedom of hand. 

Having formed an accurate outline, proceed to 
finish it by lightly touching the darkest shadows with 
a few strokes of chalk: these being inserted dis- 
tinctly, though faintly, proceed to the next darkest, 
and so on, till all the principal shades have been at- 
tended to ; then, bring the deep ones nearer to their 
proper colour; which will enable you to form a judg- 
ment of the strength requisite for the middle tints. 
It is necessary to begin shadows first, lest the middle 
tints, which are the chief beauty in all drawings, 
should acquire too much colour, and thereby spoil 
the whole. 

Remember to draw the chalk always the same way 
on the paper (whether from left to right, or from 
right to left), that it may make a smooth grain, 



free from blemishes. In any part where a very dark 
colour is wanted, to draw the chalk smartly once, 
or twice, the contrary way to the grain will produce 
the desired effect. 

The mode of using Indian-ink differs, according 
to the habit of different masters: some folio w pretty 
much(7.c.when copying)the plan laid down for chalks; 
others think it better to wash over a considerable su- 
perficies with a slight tint, which they deepen in the 
parts required. This is undoubtedly the better way 
in original composition ; and as original composition 
should be presumed to be the aim of every learner, 
it seems most proper, to adopt that mode of practice 
which may ultimately prove most advantageous, by 
reason of its greater readiness and promptitude. 

. Our remarks on the subject of this discourse, na- 
turally reduce themselves into two divisions — pro- 
portion, and handling: the first relates to the 
judgment and correctness of the eye ; the other to 
the management and skill of the hand. 

Proportion determines the relation of objects, 
as to length, breadth, form, and situation ; if a line 
be longer than another which it professes to imitate, — 
it cuts off a portion according to its estimate of that 
superfluity; if a line be too short, — it lengthens it, 
on the same principle, till it be actually, or relative- 
ly, commensurate to the original. 

Proportion, also, in regard to this Art, has reference 
to the form or shape of the object to be copied, if 
it be a true square, then no lines which are not them- 
selves truly square, can represent it ; if it be a true 
circle, then a precisely circular imitation, only, can 



accurately resemble it : the same may be said of any 
figure or form whatever. 

It is true, that in imitating the general forms of 
nature, we find very few of them strictly squares, or 
circles, but herein consists the superiority of these 
mathematical figures for the purposes of instruction; 
— they are so simple and perfect, that any deviation 
from their exact line is easily detected ; and if it be 
suspected only, a pair of compasses, and a ruler, 
determine whether that suspicion be just. 

Proportion regulates the situation of parts, and of 
objects, to each other ; for, if one part be too far 
from another, then the line between them is too long; 
and consequently some other line must be too short; 
if one object be misplaced in respect to others, the 
others may be regarded as misplaced in respect to 
that, from whence what confusion must arise ! 

Handling is the habit of hand, acquired by 
practice, of readily producing certain effects; it 
may be considered as proposing to itself the acqui- 
sition of the following qualities : 

I. Truth: — i.e. that the effect it produces, both 
in parts, and in the whole, should be conformable to 
the original it imitates; which original is, ultimately, 
Nature. This is certainly the first principle of all 
imitative arts; and the nearer any master approaches 
to this, the better; and to this a good habit of hand- 
ling contributes, because, many effects are readily 
produced by a practised hand which are impossible 
to a novice; and because, the nicety of those effects es- 
cape the perception of the uninstructed eye, as they 
elude the gross management of the unskilful hand. 

II. Fa- 


II. Facility, or Speed, naturally follows a good 
habit of handling, for what we do well, after a certain 
degree of practice, we usually do promptly: and it is 
evident that what we go dextrously about with dis- 
patch, and with almost a certainty of succeeding in 
it, we are most likely to terminate happily • not to in- 
sist on the pleasure derived from being able to accom- 
plish, in less time and with less fatigue, that which 
otherwise were both tedious, and troublesome. We 
all know and observe, the difference between a skil- 
ful and an unskilful workman, in the management of 

7*1 ' 

his tools; but I shall only in this place remark the 
difference we have all experienced, in the manage- 
ment of the pen, and the pleasure with which after a" 
time, we could apply to the Art of writing: how dif- 
ferent from that apprehension, awkwardness, and 
hesitation, which preceded our early exercises in 
that noble Art! 

III. The same principle which promotes speed, pro- 
motes neatness and convenience: this is not al- 
ways so much attended to as it deserves to be ; and 
I think is less studied in England than abroad; but 
certainly, by slovenly manners, and modes of pro- 
ceeding, both the performer and the performance 
suffer. There is a pleasure in inspecting a neat pro- 
duction; and while neatness results in no small de- 
gree from habit of hand, and attention, I shall not cease 
to recommend that all superfluous ornaments, smears- 
dabs,— daubs,— false strokes,— ill-placed touches,— 
ill-chosen and coarse strengths,— or cutting-lines,-- be 
dismissed; and an even, smooth, neat manner of pro- 
ducing the desired effect be substituted. I know no 



reason why I should decline insisting also on neat- 
ness of hand as promoting neatness of person: the 
Ladies will attend to this from their habitual neat- 
ness; and the Gentlemen will practice it, by the 
Ladies' wishes, and by my advice. 

IV. Handling has always in prospect that kind 
of character, and force of touch, which gives to each 
object its full effect. Force, or strength, of 
manner, is not a quality to be despised ; it impresses 
the spectator so instantaneously, and (if supported 
by just thinking) so powerfully, that it seems very 
desirable to be able to produce it: now, so far 
as a good habit of hand may tend to produce force 
in design, I think I ought to recommend that habit. 
Force is no random effect ; mere black and white, 
mere depth of colour, is not force ; it results from 
good management, from just opposition, and from 
artful combination ; now, in attempting force, we 
should always avoid heaviness, over-coloured parts, 
or an over-coloured whole; they may, at one period, 
while the drawing is advancing, seem to produce 
force; but force is much better produced last of all, 
by the general effect of the composition ; or a few 
smart touches impressed on proper parts of the 

V. Finishing, high finishing, has many advocates; 
there is something in it so captivating, that most young 
designers attempt it; and some think if they labour 
and slave on a subject, they must produce it : others 
think if they cover a design all over, they shall cer- 
tainly finish it highly. But, we ought to reflect, 
that finishing requires the giving a proper effect, 



manner, touch, and spirit, to every object; if so, 
then only some objects ought to be highly covered ; 
for all cannot require it : if those which do not re- 
quire it have already had as much attention paid 
them as you can possibly bestow, what further re- 
mains for those which are principal? the powers of 
finishing like those of force are not to be lavished ; 
they must be kept in store, for where they are 
wanted ; it is better, therefore, to proceed gradually 
in respect of finishing, not to over-do the minor 
parts, but to carry a steady eye throughout the 
whole; and to wait for that success which good 
principles, assisted by ready practice, never fail to 

Edit. 7 N LIST 

90 [lect. IV 






RULE the line A. B. then, by the estimation of 
the eye, only — divide it into four parts, by placing 
truly the points 1. 2. 3. if any error appear in the 
copy thus divided, — to prove it, open the compasses 
to the distance A. 1, and measure the intervals. 

2. Rule C. D. divide it, in the same manner, into 
three parts, by placing- the point 1. 2. correctly: as 

3. Draw, by the eye — E. F. the exact length of 
the interval 1. D. 

4. Divide, by the eye, — a line equal to G. H. into 
two parts and half, by the points 1. 2. 

5. Draw, by the eye — I. K. the exact interval of 
1. B. 

6*. Draw a. line equal to L. M. divide it by the 
eye exactly in half; as 1. 

7. Draw a line equal to N. O, divide it by the 
eye into six equal parts; by the points I. 2. 3. 4. 5. 

P R r V 

LECT. IV.] 91 



1. Draw truly by the eye, the part of a circle 
A. B. 

2. Draw truly by the eye, the part of a circle 
C. D. reverse from the former. 

3. Draw truly by the eye the waving line E. F. 

4. Draw truly by the eye the waving* line G. H. 

5. Draw also C. B. 

6. Draw also A. D. 

To determine whether the copy be correct : — 


The center of A. B. is at F. from that, or from a 
corresponding" distance, sweep the arc A. B. 

The center of C. D. is at E. from which, to de- 
termine its truth, sweep CD. 

The centers of E. F. are, the upper one at C. 
which sweeps from C. to the middle, or half, of C. B : 
the lower center is at F. which sweeps from the 
middle, or half, of C. B. to B. 

N 2 P R I N- 

92 [lect. iv. 



1. Draw a line — as A. B. 

2. Draw by the eye, the line C. D. exactly double 
the length of A. B. 

3. Draw by the eye, the line E. F. exactly three 
times the length of A. B. 

4. Draw by the eye G. H. exactly four times the 
length of A. B. 

5. Draw the line I. K. 

6. Draw the line L. M ; exactly half the length 
of I. K. 

7. Draw by the eye — N. O. exactly three times the 
length of L. M. divide it into three parts; from the 
middle of which project the line P. exactly the 
length of L. M. and perpendicular to N. O. 

8. Draw a circular line, as Q. R. 

9. Draw by the eye, — S. T. which divide into 
three parts, each part the exact length of Q. R. 

10. Draw by the eye, — V. W. which divide into 
four prats, each part the exact length of Q. R. 

11. Draw the line a. b. divide it in half at 1. 

12. Draw by the eye, the line c. d. divide it into 
four parts, the external ones being only half the size 
of the internal, as by the points 1. 2. 3. 

13. Draw by the eye, the line e. f. divide it into 
live parts, the two external parts being equal to only 
one internal part. 


LECT. IV.] *>3 



1. Draw by the eye an accurate circle as — 
A. B. C. D. 

2. Draw by the eye three quarters of a circle as 
— E. F. 

3. Draw by the eye half a circle as — G. H. 

4. Draw by the eye a quarter of a circle as — H. I. 


In copying these, Or similar lines, care should be 
taken that the copy resemble the original, not only 
in length, or breadth, but also in direction : i. e. per- 
pendicular, horizontal, or oblique. As the use of 
these subjects is to bring the eye acquainted with 
true proportion, and resemblance, too much exact- 
ness cannot be used in imitating them : the habit they 
are intended to produce will greatly facilitate follow- 
ing studies : and when it is requisite to draw a sub- 
ject on a different scale from the original, whether 
larger or smaller, the benefit arising from correct 
imitation of these, will be felt to great advantage. 


$4 [lect. iv. 


Twelve Plates of Sprigs, Flowers, &c. 

Numbered v. vi. vii. viii. ix. x. xi. xii. xiii. xiv. xv. 


IT has been suggested, that certain introductory 
subjects, yet more elementary than those employed 
in drawing heads, would be acceptable to our 
younger friends ; with intention to furnish such with 
proper subjects for study, we present these flowers, 
wherein we have endeavoured to combine simplicity 
of form, and ease of delineation, with the principles 
of neatness and freedom. Of these subjects, many 
are given both outlined and finished, for the greater 
ease of the learner, in order to accustom the eye to 
correctness and facility ; they are adapted for copy- 
ing either with a black-lead pencil, or with chalk ; 
and in copying them it may be adviseable to draw 
them three or four times larger than they are here 
given, in order to acquire that freedom of hand 
vhich such sweeps are calculated to produce. 










Principles of Proportion. 



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Ladies and Gentlemen, 

"EVERY thing," says Solomon, "is beautiful 
in its season :" and we adopt his opinion : time and 
place, a happy union of circumstances, render many 
things highly pleasing, which, under less favourable 
appearances, would scarcely receive our notice: your 
present attention, however, is not engaged on sub- 
jects interesting by accident, but on those which are 
universally acknowledged to be highly interesting in 
their very nature and principles. 

Our Earth abounds with a variety of beauty, but 
nothing is so striking to mankind as the beauty of 
the human form; and, while that predilection for 
Ourselves, which we lately mentioned, continues, it 
ever will be so. This has been the subject of pa- 
negyric in all ages, and by all writers ; our inimi- 
table Shakespeare, equally excellent on this occa- 
sion, as on all other, thus exclaims : " What a 
piece of work is man! how noble in reason! how 



infinite in faculties ! in form and moving, how ex- 
press and admirable ! in action, how like an angel ! 
in apprehension, how like a God ! the beauty of the 
world! the paragon of animals!" — Hamlet. 

If, amid the infirmities to which human nature is 
now exposed, man be * the beauty of the world, the 
paragon of animals ;' if his form now excite love, 
and respect; shall we for a moment turn our 
thoughts to his original purity, — when no disease 
pained him, no calamity molested him ; — when 
health of body, united with vigour of mind unpol- 
luted, untainted ; — when the first pair 

(The loveliest pair 
That ever since in love's embraces met, 
Adam the. goodliest man of men since born, 
His sons, the fairest of her daughters Eve) 

With native honour clad 
In naked majesty scem'd lords of all, 
And worthy seem'd ; for in their looks divine, 
The image of their glorious Maker shone, 
Truth, Wisdom, Sanctitude severe and pure, 
Severe, but in true fdial freedom plac'd; 
Whence true authority in man : though both 
Not equal, as their sex not equal seem'd ; 
For contemplation he and valour form'd ; 
For softness she and sweet attractive grace. 
He for God only, she for God in him : 
His fair large front and eye sublime declar'd 
Absolute rule ; and hyacinthine locks 
Round from his parted forelock manly hung 
Clustering, but not beneath his shoulders broad : 
She as a veil down to the slender waist 
Her unadorned golden tresses wore 
Dishevelled, but in wanton ringlets wav'd, 
As the vine curls her tendrils, which implied 
Subjection, but required with gentle sway, 

And by her yielded 



Well might he be called a son of god, well 
might that sublime, that insuperable commendation 
be given them, " in the image of god created he 
them." With regret we quit the contemplation of 
this lovely image, to drop a tear over the effects of 

— Man's first disobedience, and the fruit 
Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste 
Brought death into the world and all our woe, 
With loss of Eden 

But, notwithstanding disease and calamity are now 
incident to man, there yet remain, in the structure 
and formation of the human figure, sufficient evi- 
dence of infinite skill, to justify our attention; and 
sufficient beauty, to excite our admiration. 

It is surprising that any person conversant with 
that wonderful building the human frame, should be 
unaffected by the omniscient contrivance it exem- 
plifies ; that combination of fitness, variety and 
symmetry; those indispensable principles of beauty ! 
" Such a performance as this, can only be the pro- 
duction of a Divine Author," said, and said well, 
the illustrious Galen. 

We have partly prepared our auditory for consi- 
dering the figure and the head as distinct ; and as 
nothing contributes more to the acquisition of clear 
ideas on any subject, than an orderly distribution 
and consideration of it, we shall now attempt that 
orderly distribution. 

It is usual, among Artists, to divide the human 
figure into three parts; the head, the body, and 
the members which move on the body ; as this di- 
vision is extremely simple, and every way proper, 

O we 


we adhere to the general custom : and the more 
readily to attain an accurate knowledge of each 
part, we shall treat of it under the articles propor- 
tion, character, and expression. As in gram- 
mar there is a good, a better, and a best ; in re- 
ference to those degrees, we may consider a well- 
proportioned head, body, or figure as good ; one not 
only well-proportioned, but possessing a certain na- 
tural, distinguishing, and appropriate, character, as 
better ; and if to a well-proportioned character, be 
added a happy and forcible expression, it is the 
summit of excellence in the Art and the Artist. 

Nature has placed in the head not only her chrf- 
docuvrc of beauty, but likewise the governing powers 
of the whole man ; our faculties, and senses, carry 
on their various occupations in the head, and impart 
to this division an importance and pre-eminence 
which justly entitle it to our first attention. 

We proceed, therefore, now to consider the 

Proportions of the Head. 

I would not wish my auditors to suppose, that the 
term ' proportion' is to be understood as implying 
mathematical rigour ; we have before disclaimed the 
use of compasses on this subject ; and further ad- 
vances will discover increasing reason to discard all 
such inapplicable and dangerous assistants. Un- 
doubtedly, correct rules, and specific dimensions, 
are of service in their places ; for indeed we find it 
not always easy, without them, to impress on the 
mind of a student an abiding idea of regular pro- 
portion ; 


portion ; but, their utility being very confined, it is 
generally more advisable to trust to further experi- 
ence, and progress in study, than to introduce a bad 
habit which there is danger may be indulged, and 
which, when indulged, is extremely pernicious. 

It is certain, that Nature, whom we profess to fol- 
low, does not, in her works, confine herself to ma- 
thematical precision, but produces an almost infinite 
variety of countenances, by enlarging or diminishing 
one or other of the features which compose them. 
A Designer, therefore, should diligently avoid a 
constant or general repetition of similar proportions, 
lest his art degenerate into manner, and his perform- 
ances fatigue the spectator by their too close ap- 
proach to identity ; for the eye, in observation of 
natural objects, being delighted by frequent novelty, 
is liable to suffer by satiety when inspecting imita- 
tions of those objects, if, instead of that variety 
which yields delight, a continual repetition is pre- 
sented to it. Moreover, as variation of proportion 
is a principal source of character, we shall per- 
ceive, in treating that subject, that all endeavours 
to bind the features of the countenance by perma- 
nent measurements, are absurd antf nugatory. 

Objects of considerable size or number of parts, 
require some scale of proportion, or standard by 
which to measure them. In measuring the human 
figure, we select, as a standard, that part of itself 
which is most obvious, most convenient, and usually 
of most certain proportions. The figure, therefore, 
is considered as containing, in height or in breadth, 
so many measures of the head; and the head is 

O 2 divided 


divided into so many times the length of the nose; 
and, for greater accuracy, the nose is subdivided 
into twelve parts, commonly termed minutes; these 
minutes are seldom attended to in our reflections on 
Nature, but they are found of considerable service 
in studying- the invaluable remains of antiquity. 

The general form of the head is that of an oval ; 
the broader part upward, the narrower below : and 
this form it retains on whatever side it is viewed. 

There is indeed a distinction between a male and 
female head, which those who are conversant in 
anatomy discover in the scull; but which cannot be 
easily explained or rendered apparent, without en- 
tering into that science beyond our design. I shall 
enlarge no further here, on the shape of this part, 
than to remark, that some gentlemen have traced a 
gradation in the form of the scull, from a European, 
to an Asiatic, to an African, to a monkey, to a dog : 
and, further still, to birds, and to fishes. But from 
this gradation let none infer, that the form of the 
head announces a superiority of wisdom, or that 
talents and sense follow the progress mentioned : 
not that I doubt our natural propensity to place our- 
selves first on the list; or to regard Europe as the 
seat of wisdom, wit, and excellence, in preference 
to all the world! and our own country as undoubt- 
edly unrivalled in Europe ! 

Some persons have thought they discovered, in 
certain species of monkeys, a near approach to the 
human intellects, as well as form ; and some have 
carried this idea so far as to suppose, that man, in 
his uncivilized state, being merely an animal, so 



when animals shall congregate, and exercise their 
talents to polish their species, they shall become 
equal, if not superior, to mankind. But, it seems, 
the author who has lately maintained this opinion, 
is not guided by relation of forms; on the contrary, 
he has preferred, as more sagacious in some respects, 
the beaver who is prone, to the monkey, the ape, or 
even the oran-otan which is erect. 

Having thus hinted at the general shape of the 
head, let us now examine its parts, and these may 
be placed in the following order : — (I.) The eyes. 
(II.) The Nose. (III.) The Mouth. (IV.) The 
Ears. But as it would be a kind of degradation of 
these noble organs only to repeat their proportions, 
and so dismiss them, I shall solicit your attention 
to a few previous thoughts. 

Whoever reflects on the importance and necessity 
of the senses in human life, cannot but be struck with 
the provision made by an all-wise Author for their 
exercise; the organs by which we see, or smell, or 
taste, or hear, are in their nature most admirably 
adapted to their respective purposes : we will con- 
sider, if you please, the eye a little closely. 

Often have I wondered at that contrivance bv 
which we are enabled at once to comprehend, as it 
were, the universe by a speck ; at that modification 
of originally inert and lifeless matter, by which are 
transmitted to the mind the images of external ob- 
jects. It consists of humours, which, unable to 
resist injuries, or to defend themselves, are sur- 
rounded by numerous guards; a slight accident, 
which elsewhere might not deserve our notice, here 



becomes dangerous; and therefore these are pro- 
tected with extraordinary attention. The Eye is 
partly secured, and as it were fortified, by the form 
and projection of the surrounding - features, whose 
solidity may resist violent attacks ; and partly by 
those curious curtains the eye-lids, whose instinctive 
attention is too alert and watchful for every inimical 

The ball of the eye floats with great liberty in a 
kind of oil which lubricates its surface, and facili- 
tates its motion. The iris or ring of the eye, is 
centrically situated in the cornea, which by pro- 
jecting a little, acquires a more extensive view of 
surrounding objects. In the centre of the iris is the 
pupil, an orihce through which the rays ot light 
pass to the internal humours, where they are con- 
verged, and collected into a focus ; thereby depict- 
ing the image of external objects very clearly and 
powerfully on the expansion of the optic nerve, 
which here lines the internal surface, and which, 
being spread into a kind of most curious net-work, 
is called the retina. Lest the action of the rays in a 
focus should be too strong for the retina to bear, the 
pupil has a power of excluding supernumerary rays 
of light. This curious part, by a most admirable 
contrivance, possesses the faculty of contracting or 
dilating itself, according to circumstances : in a 
strong light, which might otherwise be offensive, or 
injurious, its orihce contracts, so as to admit no 
greater quantity of light than is convenient, but the 
internal parts enjoy that moderation which is neces- 
sary to the comfortable discharge of their office : in 



the shade, or wherever light is deficient, the pupil 
expands, admits all it can collect, and exerts itself 
to maintain that equilibrium which is equally de- 
stroyed by want, and by redundance. 

In cats, and other animals that prey in the dark, 
the pupil of the eye is so variable as to admit more 
than an hundred times the quantity of light at one 
time than at another. The human eye admits more 
than ten times the quantity of light at one time than 
at another ; and it is supposed the difference may 
be yet greater in very dark places : it is not impos- 
sible but that the iris may then be drawn back, and 
the pupil expand to the whole surface of the cornea. 

But it should seem, that though the pupil may ex- 
pand to this extent, it is not capable of accommo- 
dating itself to all cases requiring close contraction; 
for we are told of the northern Indians in America 
(the Esquimaux, &c.) that to prevent injury to their 
eyes from the too strong action of light reflected by 
the snows of their country, they form a pair of what 
we should call blinkers, consisting of an upper part, 
and an under, with so small an aperture between 
them as permits only a very slender streak of light 
to pass through, which yet is sufficient for their use. 
Thus, by a kind of advanced pupil, they assist the 
natural organ. 

In comparing the sensual powers of animals with 
the human, we frequently find the advantage appa- 
rently in their favour : two eyes, and those very con- 
fined in their operations compared with the same 
parts in some animals, are sufficient for the use of 
man ; while a Bee or a Fly possesses thousands : for 



what seems as one protuberant eye in those insects, 
when examined by the microscope, proves to be a 
collection of eyes, each perfect in its kind, and fur- 
nished with distinct nerves. The Cameleon has 
only two eyes ; yet by moving them forward or 
backward, or in contrary directions at once, he sur- 
veys all around him. I have with admiration ob- 
served one of these creatures looking steadily at me 
with one eye, with the other watching another per- 
son over his back, when having changed his situa- 
tion rapidly to view his alteration of colours, his 
eyes have discovered their most surprising powers. 
The towering Eagle is proverbial for possessing a 
strength of sight which is not injured by soaring 
amid the brightest beams of the splendid luminary : 
(this bird, and he is not singular in this, is provided 
with a kind of membrane, which he draws over his 
eye to defend it from the effects of too much light) 
while on the other hand, how greatly inferior are 
some animals ! what should be the visual organs of 
the Mole, are so painfully affected by light, when 
exposed to it, that the creature instantly seeks shel- 
ter by burrowing in the earth. 

We often say, we know not the worth of our pos- 
sessions till deprived of them. Shall we take our 
estimate of the value of Sight from the lamentation 
of one who had lost it ? 

Seasons return, but not to me returns 
Day, or the sweet approach of even or morn, 
Or sight of vernal bloom, or of summer's rose, 
Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine ; 
Rut cloud instead, and ever-during dark 
Surrounds me, from the cheerful ways of men 



Cut off, and for the book of knowledge fair, 
Presented with an universal blank 
Of Nature's works, to me expung'd and ras'd, 
And wisdom at one entrance quite shut out." 

Thus reasons the forlorn Sampson, 

" O dark ! dark ! dark ! amid the blaze of noon ! 

Since light so necessary is to life, 

And almost life itself, why was the Sight 

To such a tender ball as th' eye confin'd, 

So obvious, and so easy to be nuench'd ? 

And not, as Feeling, through all parts diffus'd, 

That she might look at will through ev'ry pore V 

The proportions of the Eye to the face, are as 
follow : the Ball is usually about one-fifth part of the 
width of the face ; and the Iris one-third the length 
of the ball : its height shews the opening of the eye. 
This feature is differently coloured in different per- 
sons, but not according to any certain rule ; in ge- 
neral, persons whose hair and complexion are light 
coloured, have the iris blue, or grey; on the con- 
trary, those whose hair and complexion are dark, 
have the iris of a deep brown. I have heard, from 
good authority, of a vermilion-coloured iris. 

The eye seen in profile has half its dimensions 
when seen in front. 

The feature which next claims our attention is the 
Nose. This part contains the organs of smelling ; 
without which sense, in vain were the fragrant orna- 
ments of the garden, in vain the perfumes of the 
East, in vain the spicy gales of Arabia, which make, 

" Cheer'd with the grateful smell, old Ocean smile." 

We have observed the utility of this Member in af- 

P fording 


fording a scale by which to proportion the divisions 
of the head. It is in height one-fourth part of the 
head, and one-third part of the face : seen in front, 
its width at the nostrils is equal to the width of the 
eye: its projection seen in proh'le is equal to its 
width ; the height of the nostril is about one-third 
the width of the nose. 

The form of the nose (says Leonardo da Vinci) 
may be varied eight different ways, exhibiting as 
many different kinds of noses : 

1 . Uniformly straight, concave, or convex. 

2. Straight, concave or convex, unequally. 

3. Upper parts straight, lower concave. 

4. Those above straight, those below convex. 

5. Concave above, and straight below. 

6. Concave above, and convex below. 

7. Convex above, and straight below. 

8. Convex above, and concave below. 

The insertion of the nose to the eyebrows admits 
but two different, forms, concave or straight. 

Dismissing our remarks on the nose, we proceed 
to observe of the Mouth, that it is a principal fea- 
ture in a beautiful face : its usual extent is about 
an eye and a quarter; in prolile, the mouth is 
nearly half its length seen in front; the upper lip 
should generally project before the under. 

Nature seems to have bestowed considerable care 
in decorating this feature ; witness its lively colour, 
and the variety observable in its form and motion : 
it shews pretty clearly in general the disposition of 
the mind, and, especially when smiling, has pecu- 
liar graces. Indeed, it has often been observed, 



that some persons who possess only the attraction^ 
which belong to this feature, when directed by 
complaeeney and good-nature, are generally re- 
garded as more amiable than the eompletest bean- 
ties. To enlarge on the utility of this part, is 
altogether unnecessary: its use in receiving our 
food is obvious; and though sometimes, as has been 
said, it receives poison too, yet I must own myself 
of opinion, that the poisons of life are more usually 
received at the eye, or the ear. It is, indeed, diffi- 
cult to vindicate the use sometimes made of its 
member, the tongue; (for this member, though the 
glory of our frame, lies under the imputation of be- 
ing an unruly evil). " The tongue has neither bones 
nor joint, yet fashions itself with the utmost volubi- 
lity into every shape, and every posture, which can 
express sentiment, or contitute harmony/' The 
communication of our ideas by means of the tongue, 
is an evident instance of our superiority above the 
brute creation; had they minds, they would cer- 
tainly impart their reasonings to each other; whereas 
their exertions of voice appear to express nothing 
more than bodily sensation, without any combination 
of mental ideas. 

Of the Ears we observe, that their proportion is 
usually somewhat more than om-fourth part the 
height of the head; in width, about half their 
height ; the head, in turning itself round, very 
much changes their appearance, as we sometimes 
see them in front, sometimes obliquely, sometimes 

The sense of Hearing, like that of sight, is a sub- 

P 2 ject 


ject full of wonders ; that the undulations of the air, 
so gentle, so faint, as to be imperceptible by any 
other part, should yet so strongly affect the ear in 
the utmost variety of modulations and degrees, sur- 
passes our admiration. I cannot quit this subject 
without remarking the peculiar structure of this or- 
gan: its external part is cartilaginous, extended, 
but narrowing as it approaches the internal cham- 
bers; the wandering sounds are hereby collected, 
and transmitted to a membrane called the tympanum, 
or drum, which is a fine skin extended on a circle of 
bones, over a reverberating cavity: this is effected 
by the vibrations of the air, and is furnished with 
braces, whereby to tighten or relax itself at pleasure. 
The internal cavity and its furniture, the labyrinthine 
windings of the passages, the contrivances to soften 
the percussions of sound when too strong, or to aug- 
ment them when too weak, the hammer vibrated by 
them, and repeating the motion, are so many in- 
stances of Omniscient skill; what shall we then say 
to the formation of those nerves, to act upon which 
requires all this apparatus ? 

As it is of consequence to attain a competent skill 
in designing those parts which have now separately 
employed our attention, I advise my young friends 
to pay them every regard ; repetition, though not 
perhaps always very entertaining, is indispensably 
necessary. This premised, our next step is to place 
and unite them. My auditors have a general know- 
ledge of their situation, as well from their own ob- 
servation, as from what has been already offered; — 
let us now proceed to apply the principles of art. 



The Head is considered as containing in height 
four measures of the nose: (I.) from the bottom of 
the chin to the bottom of the nose; (II.) from the 
bottom of the nose to its top; (III.) from thence to 
the upper part of the forehead, where the hair com- 
mences; (IV.) from thence to the crown of the 


We have already observed, that the general form 
of the head is that of an oval. Having therefore 
formed an oval, we place the features by tracing an 
imaginary perpendicular line in the centre, crossed 
by another at right angles in the centre of the first. 
This perpendicular line, we said, contained four 
parts, or measures of the nose (from die chin up- 
wards, the nose, the forehead, the crown of the 
head); from the chin to the nose, divided into three 
parts, the upper division is the place for the mouth. 
The line which we have represented as crossing the 
perpendicular, we divide into five par'ts, and place 
the eyes in the second and fourth divisions. In a 
front view of the head, the neck seems to commence 
about level with the mouth. Such is the general 
rule for constructing a head seen in front ; but these 
proportions are varied by many circumstances, and 
in many subjects, as will appear very evidently in 
the progress of our studies. Some masters have de- 
vised strictly mathematical rules for composing a 
head; but I never yet found in Nature a head com- 
posed by such rules, or such devices, 




Draw an oval; divide one of its sides, into the 
same proportions, or fonr parts, as before, (i. e . 
from the chin upwards, the nose, the forehead, the 
crown of the head,) their intersections with the oval 
shew the situations of the parts. 

Another method of placing; the parts in a profile: 
form an equilateral triangle ; divide one of its sides 
into three parts ; these divisions correspond to the 
places of the top and bottom of the nose ; the origi- 
nal angles, mark the top of the forehead, and the chin. 
A little rising forms the forehead; insert the nose, 
and divide the lower part as before. The other point 
of the triangle indicates the place of the ear. This 
rule serves equally, whether the profile be looking 
horizontal, upward, or downward. 

Having protested against too elose adherence to 
mathematical rules, I shall detain you, Ladies and 
Gentlemen, no longer on this part of our subject: 
like corks to young swimmers, such supports may 
be useful on some occasions, but the sooner they are 
quitted the better. 

We mayconsiderourselves as having inspected the 
head in two of its principal attitudes — the front and the 
profile; there are two others to whieh we now direct 
our attention, i.e. looking downwards, and looking 

It is certain, the real distance of the features remain 
the same in every inclination of the head; they are fix- 
ed: but their apparent situation to the eye of a spectator 
may vary, either by changing the position of the head, 
or (which is equal) by the spectator's changeof place. 




Ill a head looking downward, we observe that those 
features which in the front face were horizontal and 
even, now become the inferior part of a. circle ; we 
observe too, that the upper divisions of the head are 
brought forward and appear enlarged, and some of 
the upper part of the back of the head is seen. This 
variation is more or less sensible as the head is more 
or less declined. Let us consider this matter: — In 

'looking- at a person with whom we may be conver- 
sing, we naturally look at the eyes of that person ; but, 
if he bows his head, while our eyes remain in the same 

.place, the divisions of his face appear to follow each 
other thus ; — the chin recedes, while the upper part 
of the head projects; consequently the lower division 
(the chin) appears to shorten ; — the next division 
(the nose), though in fact hardly preserving its 
former dimensions, yet seems enlarged, if compared 
with the diminution of the first : while the third di- 
vision (the forehead) gains a similar apparent advan- 
tage over the second : and the fourth over the third. 

If the person supposed, should bend his head very 
much downward (looking earnestly at the ground, 

.for instance), we now perceive distinctly the com- 
parative states of these divisions: i. e. that the fourth, 

-or crown of the head, preserves its just dimensions, 
while the third, or forehead, is lessened; this, com- 
pared with the nose, is little diminished, but the nose 

.itself is considerably changed, and the chin, the 
lower division, scarcely appears at all. 

These variations are proportionate to the degree 
in which the head is lowered ; and a. similar progress 
inverted takes place in a head looking upward. 




In this aspect those lines which originally were 
horizontal, and in the foregoing example became the 
inferior part of a circle, now become the superior 
part of a circle ; and the upper divisions of the head 
recede, to their apparent diminution, in proportion 
to whatever degree the head is elevated. The parts 
follow each other thus : — the upper, or fourth divi- 
sion of the head, is considerably lessened; the fore- 
head not quite so much ; the nose somewhat less ; 
and the chin scarce at all. 

In the head looking downward, the prominence 
of certain parts conceals somewhat of the parts be- 
neath them. Thus the eye-brows by their projection 
hide the eyes; the nose hides the mouth; and the 
upper lip hides part of the under lip. Whereas, in 
the elevation of the head, the projection of these 
parts appears distinctly, and we see beneath them ; 
the eye-brows seem to rise, the nostrils are entirely 
seen underneath the nose, and part of the throat 
shews itself under the chin. This effect is propor- 
tionate to the degree of elevation in which the head 
is placed. The ear, being nearest the centre of mo- 
tion, suffers the least alteration; yet even that is con- 
siderably moved. 

These are the chief attitudes of the head whose 
principles require illustration; not only as these 
principles apply to all others, but as all others are, 
more or less, composed of one or other of the atti- 
tudes to which we have been attending. 


LECT. V.] 113 


First trace a central perpendicular line through 
the forehead, nose, mouth, and chin ; then— cross 
lines on which to place the eyes, nose, mouth, &c. 
(This rule is universal, and is applicable in every 
aspect of the head : but the lines and features vary 
by becoming circular, as already explained, in cer- 
tain motions.) Having lightly traced these lines, 
proceed to mark the features, their extent, and pro- 
jection ; these being touched in their proper places, 
insert the other parts, hair, &c. (paying great regard 
to the oval of the face, and to the turn of the neck): 
finish the whole, by giving to each part that tone of 
strength, or shadow, and of colour, which it re- 

Thus have we attended somewhat to the human 
figure; more particularly, to the parts which com- 
pose the head ; whose divisions we have noticed ; the 
appearances of the features in various aspects; their 
proportions and uses : but let us not conclude that 
our progress is complete ; for were a head composed 
never so exactly according to the measures we have 
mentioned, it would yet be very distant from such 
animation and vigour as might seem to impart life to 
it ; that can only be attained by the addition of a 
certain natural likeness, or character, whose prin- 
ciples will be the subject of our next discourse. 


114 [lect. v. 







.3 Divide the length of the eye seen in front into 
three parts, the center is the size of the sight and the 
proper opening of the eye, which is one-third of its 
length. The eye in prohle is half the size of the eye 
in front, having only one part and a half. 



The nose seen in front is in width the length of 

the eye ; and in profile has the same dimensions. 

The nostril is in height one-third of the width of the 




The mouth seen in front should have in length an 
eye and a quarter. The mouth in profile nearly half 
the front. 



The ear should be in length rather more than one 
quarter the height of the head. The width of the 
ear is half its length. 


Tlate ?.z , pn<ji> jjj 

Principles of Drawing 

[lect. v. 115 


The first thing to be observed in this plate is the 
oval A. B. C. D. E. F. G. H. which regulates and 
controuls the construction of the whole: this oval is 
divided in the middle, by the perpendicular line A.E ; 
which perpendicular line is itself divided into four 
parts by the cross lines D. F : C. G : B. H: the 
lower division D, E, F. is subdivided into three 
parts by the lines a, b : the middle cross line C. G. 
is subdivided into five parts, by the lines 1. 2. 3. 4. 
The oval thus proportioned, represents the lines ne- 
cessary to the delineation of a head seen in front. 

If we imagine the head thus composed to move 
horizontally, turning as on a center, then the per- 
pendicular line A, E. proceeds into the place of the 
line A, 1, E ; and now represents the principles of 
a three quarters face. It is evident, the lines which 
mark the four divisions of the head D, F. — C, G, — 
B, H. maintain precisely the station and relation to 
each other which they had before. 

Imagine this head to continue turning horizontally, 
the perpendicular line moves on, till it occupies the 
place of A, B, C, D, E : which represents the prin- 
ciples, and attitude of a profile head: the crossing 
lines, D, F, — C, G, — B, H, retain their former 
situations, and still proportion the head : the lower 
division also continuing divided into three parts, 
corresponding to the lines a and b. 

Q 2 Dis- 

li»> [lect. tJ 

Dismissing all ideas of the front face, or of the 
three quarters face, let us attend to the nature and 
construction of the profile face, as if that only were 
upon the plate. 

It appears by inspection, that the line of the ova.1 
A, B, C, D, E, divided by the cross lines, gives the 
places of the features of the face. It appears also, 
that the equilateral triangle B, I, K, being divided 
on its side B, I, by the lines C and D, gives the same 
points for the features as did the former process by 
the oval, i. e. by both methods D is the bottom, and 
C is the top, of the nose. K, the other point of the 
triangle, is taken for the place of the ear. 

If the human head were perfectly egg shaped, or 
if it were turned in a lathe, this mode might be accu- 
rate ; but not only is the .ear too large a feuture to be 
indicated by a single point, but K is too backward 
for the general situation of the ear. 

To rectify this, some artists direct to draw an 
equilateral triangle somewhat inclining as B, b, c : 
then, parallel to B, c, from d (the place of the eye) 
draw d, e ; e is the point which indicates the hole of 
the ear, or the auditory passage. These mathemati- 
cal rules have each their imperfections, for reasons 
already partly given, and hereafter to be enlarged on. 
It is therefore unnecessary at present to say more, 
than that between these points e and K the ear may 
safely be placed : but it is evident, the principle 
which serves best for the nose, &c. (the advanced 
part of the face), is not equally applicable to the back 
part of the face ; and, on the other hand, the prin- 
ciple which best places the ear is neither very accu- 
rate nor very general, in placing the nose, &c. 


LECT. V.] 117 



This plate is already partly explained, by what has 
been said in the Lecture, and by some of the ob- 
servations on the foregoing - plate. The oval is di- 
vided by the line, A, A. and crossed by the lines B, B, 
and C, C. The lowest division contains the month 
and chin, 1. 2. 3. The central division is again 
subdivided into live parts, 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. and in the 
second and fourth of these divisions the eyes are 
placed. The ears correspond to the length of the 
nose : and the neck appears to be about that length ; 
i.e. from the bottom of the chin to the pit of the 
clavicles. The forehead of this figure seems rather 
high ; but it must be owned the hair so commonly 
covers this part of the forehead, that rarely can its 
true dimensions be more than estimated. Beside 
this, it is to be considered, that, on all rounding 
bodies, the influence of perspective is considerable, 
and that the apparent dimensions of their surfaces 
vary, in proportion to the rapidity with which their 
parts recede from the spectator's eye : the forehead 
therefore receding rapidly toward the crown of the 
head, the distance included in the upper division 
of the head seldom appear to the eye equal to what 
it really is. 


US [lect. v. 



This is represented according; to the ideas sug- 
gested in Plate XXI. divested of all other lines, 
and the features merely placed by light touches of 



Is represented according to the ideas suggested 
in Plate XXI. divested of all other lines, and the 
features lightly touched in. 

It is adviseable that these heads, and the others 
by which the principles of their construction are 
explained, should be frequently repeated and 


LECT. V.] 110 



A head partly looking down, wherein we per- 
ceive after what manner the lines which mark the 
features become the inferior part of a circle, as B B 
and C C. 



A head looking down still more than the other, 
consequently the lines B B and C C are become still 
more concave: the features also being hidden by 

the projection of those above them, as observed in 
the Lecture. 


120 [Leot, v. 



In this example, we observe that the cross lino 
BB and CC assume the appearance of the superior 
part of a circle, the forehead recedes, and that the 
under part of the eye-brows, nose and chin, are ex- 
posed to view. 



This head is represented as looking up much 
more than the former, consequently we see much 
more under the eye-brows, the nose, and chin; the 
forehead is reduced to very narrow dimensions, while 
the throat is very conspicuous. The lines B B and 
C C in this attitude appear very much rounded. 








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■ V 

Farts of the Face 

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PARTS of the FACE 

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PARTS of the FACE 

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PAHTS of the FACE 

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Part's of the face. 

LECT. V.") 121 


These Plates contain parts of the face drawn on a 
large scale, and with as much lightness as possible. 
Their various attitudes and characters render them 
desirable studies ; they are of further advantage as 
examples of handling. 

Edit. 7. R LECTURE 




Ladies ajn t d Gentlemen, 

N pursuing our remarks on that division of our 
subject which now requests your attention, I flatter 
myself you will receive as well entertainment as im- 
provement ; of which, perhaps, you will be the 
more sensible, if, while we proceed on our subject, 
you recollect the remarks you cannot but have made 
on many articles similar to those we shall introduce ; 
and I more readily request the recollection of your 
former sentiments, because the peculiar character 
pf certain persons cannot easily be mistaken, but 
zvill impress the mind of every observer. Did you 
never dislike a person merely from his appearance, 
without any other reason ? Did you never meet the 
man in whom you imagined you saw not only a de- 
ficiency of manners, but of sense, or of morals ? in 
whose vacancy of countenance you supposed you 
traced the s:gns of a correspondent vacancy of 
thought, and intellect ? On the other hand, many 
persons may at first sight have prepossessed you in 
jheir favour, and their countenances have been, as 



was said by Queen Isabella of Castile, equivalent to 
letters of recommendation. 

In. such instances you have judged by cha- 
racter ; and, without perceiving it, have deter- 
mined by the principles which are to be discussed in 
the present discourse. That these principles are 
founded in nature, I shall now assume for granted : 
should it be said in reply, — that prejudice has its 
share ; — that persons arrived to years of reflection, 
combine ideas of good-nature, or of peevishness, 
with features similar to those which they have pre- 
viously noticed as accompanying such qualities ; ad- 
mitting the fact, which indeed strengthens our argu- 
ment, I beg leave to enquire by what principle do 
children fondle, caress, and become intimate withj 
some persons, while they reject the favors of others ? 
they do not reason from past experience ; but from 
present aspect : neither perhaps do animals always 
follow such experience, when they select as friends, 
from among a numerous company, those persons 
whose looks indicate their natural benevolence. It is 
commonly said that dogs possess this sagacity in a 
high degree ; and though common sayings are not to 
be implicitly adopted, no one will assert that this is 
destitute of foundation. 

But the term character is of much wider extent 
in the arts of Design ; it expresses that peculiar and 
distinguishing appearance of feature, person, and 
deportment, which is proper to any, and to every, 
individual. By character we determine the sex, 
the time of life, the country or family, the mental 
disposition, the natural or acquired habit, and even 

R 2 (frequently) 


(frequently) the professions, and the pursuits, of 
those with whom we are conversant. Seeing then 
we have such variety opening to us in this article, let 
us proceed to investigate it with circumspection. 

Perhaps I ought first to consider the distinct cha- 
racter of the sexes, as most obvious and undeniable, 
as "being the determinate appointment of Nature 
itself: but I rather wish now to trace the charac- 
ter of the countenance, from infancy to age ; and 
the difference of sex is not very remarkable in early 

That kind of character which marks their years is 
so clearly discernible in Children, that it admits 
of no dispute ; the form of their features is as pecu- 
liar to themselves, as the simplicity of their minds. 
Children possess the same natural propensities as per- 
sons of riper years ; but their tender age prevents the 
appearances of those signs or marks which usually 
denote such propensities ; yet, we frequently ob- 
serve, even in very young children, certain indica- 
tions of genius, or of stupidity, which time after- 
wards justifies. 

In following the progress of human life, we re- 
mark, that most of its powers are at first very con- 
fined in their services ; by degrees they quit their 
inactivity, and exercise the functions assigned them: 
it is true, the senses, and the organs of sense are per- 
fect ; but practice and repetition are necessary to 
facilitate their use. Even Sight is very deceptive to 
infants, as appears from their reaching at objects 
much too distant for their attainment ; yet it should 
seem, that the sense of Sight, especially, is perfect 
2 very 


very early, for its principal organs never vary in the 
dimensions they once possess ; the pupil equally per- 
forms its office, and the iris, as Mr. Hogarth ob- 
serves, continues ever the same ; " so that," says he, 
" you sometimes find this part of the e} r e in a new- 
born infant full as large as in a man six feet high, 
nay, sometimes larger." Undoubtedly, Nature pays 
the greatest attention to those parts whose uses are 
most early and important ; the head of a child, there- 
fore, is much nearer perfect proportion than any 
member of the body, because of its closer relation to 
the mental powers, and to the early employment of 
the faculties exercised in that part. 

Our present business is, to remark the external 
appearance of childhood, as seen in the countenance : 
in describing which we say, that, whereas an oval 
is the form of the head in adult age, the head of 
childhood partakes much more of the circle, and 
the features incline to the circular form. In adult 
persons, we reckon the figure to contain in height, 
seven, seven and a half, or eight times the height of 
the head ; whereas the head of a child is so much 
larger in proportion, that it is full one fifth part of 
the whole figure. The features of childhood may 
be thus described : the eye (i. c. the iris) is large, 
being the standard wherewith the other features are 
measured, and by which we compare the daily per- 
ceived growings of the other parts of the face, and 
thereby determine a young child's age ; the nose is 
flat ; the cheeks are plump and round ; the mouth 
is somewhat retired ; the ears are large ; and the 
ivhole together is rather heavy. Now this is the ge- 


neral description of both sexes ; and will suit the 
countenance of either a boy or a girl : but Art must 
distinguish the sexes even in childhood, and though 
it is not uncommon for them to be mistaken for each 
other, by casual observers, yet a picture should suf- 
fer no ambiguity in this matter. To determine this 
distinction the following hints may contribute. 

During early infancy, indeed, the faces of boys 
and girls have no considerable difference, and there- 
fore parents have found it necessary to distinguish 
them by dress ; but, as they grow up, the features 
of the boy get the start, and grow faster in propor- 
tion to the iris, (or ring of the eye) than those of 
the girl, which shews the distinction of sex in the 
face. Boys who have larger features than ordinary, 
in proportion to the iris, are what we call manly- 
featured children ; as those who have the contrary, 
look younger, and more childish, than they really are. 

Boys are generally more robust than girls ; their 
heads are broader, their ears larger ; they have usu- 
ally a greater quantity of hair ; more frequently 
curled ; girls may have their's twisted, plaited, or 
wound upon their heads, with loose flying locks ; 
their hair commonly longer than that of boys. Girls 
discover a certain sprightliness and vivacity, which 
is not equally strong in boys, though ever so wanton 
and playful. Attention should be paid to the natural 
disposition of the sexes ; a doll, which as a toy well 
enough becomes a girl, is improper for a boy ; as 
manly exercises, horses, or arms, which are the de- 
light of boys, are not pleasing in the estimation of 
the softer sex, nor in our estimation of it. 



In the progress of the countenance to maturity, 
-the features lose much of their roundness of form,* 
and acquire more of the oval ; the nose rises, the 
cheeks retire, the mouth forms, and the disposition 
of the mind begins to shew itself in the air of the 
face. Especially, we now perceive a difference of 
sexes, in the more speedy advance of the female 
features toward that form which is the ultimatum of 
beauty : 

By degrees, 

The human blossom blows, and ev'ry day 
Soft as it rolls along, shews some new charm, 
The father's lustre, or the mother's bloom. 

When adolescence and youth have arrived at 
Maturity, there is no longer any difficulty in dis- 
covering the sex ; for though some few of either sex 
might personate the other, yet, as it is the intention 
of Nature they should be distinct, it exceeds our 
power to controul that intention ; although in some 
instances we attempt it. I cannot but acknowledge 
myself of Sir Roger de Coverlet's opinion, who 
thought 'your Abrahams, your Isaacs, and your 
Jacobs, had much the advantage of us in appearance, 
by the extent of their beards.' In my eye there is a 
wonderful venerability, shall I call it ? in a silver 
beard : and though at present this appendage to the 
masculine countenance is under sentence of excision, 
the time has been when no man was thought wise 
without one ; and the time may return when it shall 
be restored to its honours, and politeness and civility 
fce calculated by the dimensions of the beard. 



The Greeks in the Holy Land relate a story of one 
of their patron saints to whom the acquisition of this 
article seemed so desirable, that his anxiety and 
wishes for it quite preyed on his spirits. They add, 
that Satan conceiving he had him at advantage, of- 
fered to furnish him handsomely on certain condi- 
tions ; but this proposal the holy man rejected with 
scorn and horror, giving at the same time a hearty 
tug at the stumps of what little he had : rinding it 
lengthen by the attack, he repeated his endeavors 
with indefatigable perseverance ; and in short, to the 
great vexation of the father of evil, has now the ho- 
nor of wearing the longest beard in the calendar : 
i. e. from the chin to the ground. Whether this mi- 
racle excites similar wishes among my auditors, I 
will not determine ; but I observe the Ladies, by 
their smiles, seem to indicate their satisfaction that 
it happened, where we leave it — in a, foreign land. • 

The vicissitudes to which mortals are subject for- 
bid a permanence of that maturity to which we have 
traced them ; the parts, indeed, have attained their 
full growth, health enlivens the countenance, beauty 
adorns the cheek, the sparkling eye shoots love-in- 
spiring glances, the scarlet lips breathe sweet delight; 
but having now no further progress to make, the 
flower, which has completed its bloom, gradually 
changes, withers, fades, and dies. By degrees, im- 
perceptible at first, steals on a small alteration in the 
features, or the lines, of a face ; in advancing, the 
change becomes more visible, and at length becomes 
even rapid. The tints at first decline a little, but a 
certain sensibility of appearance, maintained by ma- 


turity of mind) makes ample amends; afterwards, 
we perceive the sweet simplicity of many rounding 
parts of the face begin to break into less pleasing 
forms, with more sudden turns about the muscles ; 
till at last the all-conqueror Time, triumphs, over 
what was once manly vigour, or female beauty. 

We shall just remark the assimilation of the sexes 
in advanced years i during infancy they are greatly 
alike ; very distinct at maturity ; in old age they re- 
turn to likeness. The most beautiful woman retains 
not the softness of her countenance) but, as wrinkles 
increase, approaches in appearance to a man of the 
same time of life ; as a man, formerly robust and 
athletic^ loses the distinguishing characters of his 
sex, and, under the pressure of a load of years, de- 
serted by strength and vigour, dwindles into a close 
resemblance to an old woman. 

I offer no further thoughts en the character of the 
sexes, though much might be said : your own atten- 
tion, Ladies and Gentlemen^ will amply supply* 
and indeed surpass^ any remarks of mine on the 

•1 proceed to notice very briefly certain particulars 
"bf character, as the effects of those Natural In- 
clinations which are personal to each of us. 

As my intent is to assist the young designer in the 
study of Nature, whose appearances are the obje*5t- 
of our present attention, it would be beside my pur- 
pose to enter into mysteries of physiognomy^ (a 
science-, tf puzzled in mazes, and perplexed with 
errors j") though some great artists have thoughc it- 
the foundation of this part of their art., and an erni- 

FJit.j. , S nent 


nent foreign virtuoso (Mr. Lavater, in his Essal sur 
la rhisiognomie), lias lately supported it in all its ex- 
tremes : Yet, perhaps, it may not be altogether use* 
less, to remark, that the animal part of man is appa- 
rently governed by the same laws as animals in gene- 
ral ; and. that, when the human countenance is si- 
milar in its parts to those of certain animals, the man 
is supposed, with considerable probability, to have 
similar dispositions. Features of the swine, the ox, 
the sheep, and the lion, have been found in some 
faces: Socrates is an indubitable instance of the 
first, and Cromwell of the last; at the sight of 
whose portrait a certain Northern Potentate is said to 
have exclaimed ; " I protest he makes me tremble!" 

1 shall here offer the opinion of a very obser- 
vant artist, who has thus expressed himself': "We 
have daily many instances which confirm the com- 
monly-received opinion, that the face is the index 
of the mind ; and this maxim is so rooted in us, that 
we cannot help, (if our attention be a little raised) 
forming some particular conception of the person's 
mind whose face we are observing, even before we 
receive information by any other means. 

" How often is it said, on the slightest view, that 
such a one looks like a good-natured man ; that he 
hath an honest, open countenance ; or looks like a 
cunning rogue, a man of sense, or a fool, &c. ? And 
how are our eyes rivetted to the aspects of kings and 
heroes, murderers and saints ? and as we contem- 
plate their deeds, seldom fail making application to 
their looks. It is reasonable to believe that aspect to 
be a true and legible representation of the mind, 
1 which 


which gives every spectator the same idea at first 
sight, and is afterwards confirmed in fact ; for in- 
stance, all concur in the same opinion at iirst sight 
of a downright ideot. 

" There is little more to be seen by children's 
faces, than that they are lively or heavy ; and scarcely 
that, unless they are in motion. Very handsome 
faces, of almost any age, will hide a foolish or a 
wicked mind, till they betray themselves by their 
actions or their words ; yet the frequent aukward 
movements of the muscles of the fool's face, though 
ever so handsome, is apt in time to leave such traces 
up and down it, as will distinguish a defect of mind 
upon examination : but the bad man, if he be vn 
hypocrite, may so manage his muscles, by teaching 
them to contradict his heart, that little of his mind 
can be gathered from his countenance ; so that the 
character of the hypocrite is entirely out of the 
power of the pencil, without some adjoining circum- 
stances to discover him, as smiling and stabbing at 
the same time, or the like. 

" It is by the natural and unaffected movements 
of the muscles, caused by the passions of the mind, 
that every man's character would in some measure be 
written in his face, by that time he arrives at forty 
years of age, were it not for certain accidents, which 
often, though not always, prevent it ; for the ill-na- 
tured man, by frequently frowning and pouting out 
the muscles of his mouth, doth in time bring those 
parts to a constant state of the appearance of ill-na- 
ture, which might have been prevented by the con- 
stant affectation of a smile ; and so of the other pas- 

S 2 sions ; 


sions ; though there are some which do not affect 
the muscles at all (simply of themselves) as love and 

" But, lest I should be thought to lay too great a 
stress on outward shew, it is acknowledged there are 
so many different causes which produce the same 
kind of movements and appearances of the features, 
and so many thwartings by accidental shapes in the 
make of faces, that the old adage, 'frontl nulla Jides, 
will ever stand its ground upon the whole ; and, for 
very wise reasons, Nature hath thought fit it should. 
But, on the other hand, in many particular cases, 
we receive great information from the expressions of 
the countenance." 

Character is most clearly discerned in those 
parts of the face which chiefly contribute to expres- 
sion : in expression they appear more powerful and 
and active, as the occasion is recent and sudden ; 
but, the cause of character being remote and latent, 
its tokens though gradual and abiding, are not equally 
obvious till after they have been confirmed by habit. 
Before I proceed to oiler such observations on the 
features as have been usually adopted by those who 
have studied ttie subject, I beg leave to premise, 
that it is impossible to say, determinately, that as 
such and such features compose the countenance of 
a certain individual, therefore he is — morose — a glut- 
ton, Sec because, the inclination of the human mind 
being not to one passion exclusively (thpugh one may 
predominate) but compounded of many desires, and 
(Containing a variety of dispositions, frequently op- 


posite and contradi calory, so the signs of those dis- 
positions oppose and contradict each other. 

Scarce any set of features exhibits anger, or ha- 
tred, affection, or tranquillity, alone ; because no 
person is constantly angry, though often ; or always 
tranquil and easy, how serene soever his life may be 
in general ; but, his sensations being various, at the 
same time., and at different times, his aspect presents 
•the marks of that variety. In a great measure, from 
this source, arises that almost infinite diversity of 
character, which we remark in the human counte- 
nance ; hence the likeness, or unlikeness, in persons 
of the same family ; whose turn of mind being si- 
milar, or different, the family resemblance is varied 
into features corresponding therewith. 

I would say of the following remarks, as of those 
mathematical rules which we observed might be ap- 
plied to the features of the face ; they may impart an 
idea to the student, or direct him in acquiring ideas, 
but, in my opinion, they must not be too generally 
applied, or too constantly depended on. 

We are told, that a forehead upon which the hair 
grows very low, especially if accompanied with 
wrinkles, is usually a sign of a gloomy disposition. 
Very thick eyebrows, seem to indicate jealousy and 
dislike. The Eyes very much contribute to cha- 
racter ; when large and fierce, they express courage 
and fury ; when soft and moderate, good-nature ; 
but if too small, they mark disingenuity and cun- 
ning. The Nose is the seat of anger ; and large 
nostrils may be thought to signify it ; the nose, when 
turned up, betokens sensuality ; and when ruddy, is 



well known as the sign of a drunkard. The Mouth 
discovers whether a person be churlish, or benevo- 
lent ; if the former, the under-lip has contracted a 
habit of pouting, and its corners bend downward ; 
if the latter, the corners of the mouth turn rather 
upward, as approaching to a smile, especially when 
about to speak. The cheeks, in persons of a com- 
placent temper, are seldom found hollow aand sunk 
in ; when plump, they generally represent jollity and 

You know that in some rules of arithmetic it is 
common to prove the truth of the operation, by re- 
versing the method taken to obtain the product ; 
should a similar process be adopted here, perhaps it 
would not be without its use : take, for instance, 
jollity and mirth ; who would think of representing 
them by meagre and sunken cheeks ? who would ex- 
press good-nature by a frown ? or petulance by a 
smile ? 

But natural inclination, though a principle of 
great activity, is not infrequently so controuled and 
checked by acquired habit, as to lay dormant 
(or nearly) in action and demeanor. If a person be 
choleric, he is nevertheless restrained, by a principle 
of good-breeding and manners, from indulging his 
choler : if he be a man of sense and wisdom, his 
care in this particular will greatly curb his disposi- 
tion. A person naturally gluttonous, will, if a man 
of decency, for decency's sake refrain from gross 
debauchery. Now, in my opinion, this decorum of 
behaviour, though it cannot erase the lines of the 
countenance, yet should incline an Artist to soften 

them ; 


them j nor represent to posterity as irascible, or as 
a glutton, him whose deportment is sedate and tem- 

Acquired Habit, though it cannot erase the 
lines of a countenance, frequently adds others to 
them. Severe and long-continued study is apt to 
occasion a solemnity of aspect, (chiefly seen in the 
brow) which should be carefully distinguished from 
ill-nature ; and indeed all professions produce a cer- 
tain something in the appearance of those who follow 
them, which is readily discernible : the soldier, the 
sailor, the butcher, are instances universally ad- 
mitted ; nor is it difficult to discover a taylor at first 
sight. Exceptions must be allowed, but the prin- 
ciple is just. This idea might be pursued in a great 
variety of remarks ; but we shidl not enlarge on it 

Habit, arising from causes not professional, has 
many ways of shewing itself, and contributes not a 
little to character. A person who has constantly af- 
fected superior judgment (no matter in what art) 
acquires a certain positive and dogmatical air, both 
in his countenance and manners. Habit makes some 
hold down their heads, others hold them up ; some 
stare from habit ; others squint. Observation is the 
best guide on this subject. ; the variety is too copious 
to be regulated by precept. 

As much of the habits acquired by persons in 
general, is the effect of that course of life to which 
they have been accustomed, I shall here introduce, 
as another cause of character, that various rank i.\ 



life, which, as things are circumstanced, makes no 
small difference between some persons and others. 

Mankind were originally equal, except what obe- 
dience was due to paternal authority ; but, now we 
see some exalted above Others* and expect a kind of 
dignity and importance from one station, which 
would surprize us in another. To kings, and prin- 
ces, to noblemen, and grandees, we look for very 
different demeanour and address from that of rustics 
and clowns ; and to see in them an air of majesty and 
elevation, which we suppose distinguishes them from 
the crowd. It is true, a rustic or a- clown may sur- 
pass, in natural aspect, a nobleman or a king (and 
indeed it is our felicity that the Author of our na- 
ture, in dispensing his favours, pays no regard to 
the glittering inventions of human vanity) nor can 
we limit mental qualities by external appearances,, ot 
trace them, universally, in the features of a counte* 
nance ; yet as Design cannot represent the mind, but 
through the medium of those features, it is not only 
pardonable, but commendable^ where the liberty carl 
be taken without trespassing on Verisimility, to ex- 
hibit such traits as most impressively denote to the 
spectator the character intended, be that character 
what it may. 

If a picture represent a commander at the head of 
his troops, we expect to discover in him a more mar- 
tial air, and greater gallantry, than in the soldiers, 
who, though valiant, must yet be supposed less ele- 
vated in the apparent dignity of valour than their 
leader is : if you ask, wherefore ? I would wish you 
to consider a little intimately the causes for this sup- 


posed distinction. Courage is a natural quality, 
which is equally possessible by the soldier as by b is 
general ; so far they are upon a par : but is it to 'be 
supposed the soldier has had the same advantages of 
education ? has he pursued the same studies, practiced 
the same manners, acquired the same liberal accom- 
plishments as his officer? Here then are sufficient 
causes, arising from personal circumstances, for dis- 
tinction of character between two persons whose 
natural endowments may be equal ; and this without 
enforcing any remarks on the difference occasioned 
by the habit of authority and of obedience. Or, take 
as instances the manners of nobility — politeness, 
ease, affability ; these are the result of a more en- 
larged scheme of thought, and apprehension, than 
we suppose the leisure, or opportunity, of a rustic 
permits him to acquire ; not that his mental powers 
may be incapable of equal attainments, but that they 
have been beyond the reach of his station. 

Perhaps the distinction occasioned by station in 
life is yet more conspicuous in the other sex ; the air 
and appearance of a lady of rank, aided by internal, 
as well as efxternal, embellishments, is surely differ- 
ent from that of her servant ; as that of her servant, 
from the opportunities she has possessed of noticing 
her mistress, may be (almost entirely) changed from 
what she was when a cottager's daughter : and cer- 
tainly, amidst all its rusticity and plainness, her in- 
nocent modesty when a cottager's daughter, was 
very superior to, as well as very different from, the 
dissolute appearance of those who have lost that 

Edit, 7. X prin- 



principal ornament of female life. Add to this idea, 
the effect of a certain consciousness (that abiding 
companion of guilt) whose presence discriminates 
an harlot from a woman of virtue, or a thief from a 
man of probity ; and which, though not competent 
evidence for the verdict of a jury, yet, frequently, 
determines general spectators to bring in the cul- 
prit guilty. 

The foregoing part of our subject has presented 
circumstances common to mankind : in every coun- 
try, in every clime, are these diversities to be found : 
but, a very considerable source of character is, that 
peculiarity of features which being distributed to 
various nations, distinguishes them from each 
other; on this we proceed to observe, that the 
different nations which inhabit the globe, have 
each a something in their appearance peculiar to them- 
selves, arising either from climate, or custom, from 
religious rites, or civil manners, independent of that 
cast of features proper to each individual, and of 
whatever rank he may sustain in life. 

It is true, that among Europeans, and nations who 
have considerable intercourse with each other, this 
variety is not so striking as in people who never 
mingle with their neighbours ; because the former 
become in time not a little conformed to those with 
whom they have most intimate communication ; and 
natives of either country, who unite and mix with,' 
the other, diffuse their distinguishing peculiarities 
wherever they form connections. So likewise, per- 
sons of rank and fortune seldom present the marks 



of their nation equally strong with the lower classes 
of people ; because, by acquaintance with foreigners 
at home, or residence among them abroad, they ac- 
quire much of their manners and deportment ; while 
the inferior part of mankind not having the same 
opportunities, but continually conversing among 
such as resemble themselves, preserve, in its full 
power, the original and popular character of their 

National distinctions of features and manners are 
so obvious, that little need be urged respecting 
them : it is unnecessary to prove that an Englishman 
does not resemble a Chinese, or a Frenchman a Hot- 
tentot : but it would require a very copious disserta- 
tion to examine into all the varieties that roiebt be 
named ; neither is it easy to procure authentic por- 
traits of remote nations, sufficiently correct, from 
which to form a judgment. 

For the information of my younger auditors, I 
shall solicit indulgence, while I state a few of the 
characteristic distinctions which prevail among 
mankind : the subject is probably new to some, and 
cannot be without its use to any. 

Geographers, and others who have studied this 
matter, distinguish several varieties in the human 

I. The Laplander, and others who inhabit the 
lorthern parts of the globe (where Nature seems to 
oe confined in her operations, " bound by eternal 
.frost") whether European or American : these, we 
are told, have broad flat faces, broken and sunken 

T 2 noses, 



noses, the iris yellow-brown, inclined to black, the 
eye-brows drawn back towards the temples, high 
cheeks, large mouths, thick lips, and black hair ; 
their heads so large as to contain full one-fifth of the 
whole figure ; the major part are about four feet 
high ; tall persons among them about four and a 
half : the sexes are scarcely to be distinguished by 
their appearance. 

II. The Tartars, are a variety, whose faces are 
large, and wrinkled even in youth ; their noses thick 
and short, their cheeks high, the lower parts of their 
faces narrow, their chins long and prominent, their 
eyebrows very thick, and their figures of answerable 

III. The Chinese have small eyes, and large 
eyelids, small noses, and as it were broken ; seven 
or eight bristles of a beard on each lip, and scarce 
any on the chin : the women use every art to make 
their eyes appear little ; and when, in addition to 
small eyes, they possess a broken nose, long, broad, 
and hanging ears, they suppose themselves perfect 

IV. The Negro scarce requires description ; his 
flat nose and thick lips are well known ; as are his 
woolly kind of hair, and his jet-black complexion. 

V. The features and proportions of the Hotten- 
tot are yet different from, though in many respects 
conformable to, those of the Negro. 

VI. The natives of North-America form an- 
other class of men, whose complexion varies from 
that of others ; as 

VII. Those 


VII. Those of South-America vary from those 
of the North. 

All these people (not to notice their smaller 
differences) are totally distinct from 

VIII. The race of Europeans in these tempe- 
rate latitudes. 

It were endless to enumerate the variety of national 
features in Europe alone, which yet are so strongly 
marked, that any person, conversant with them, per- 
ceives at once the natives of each country by that 
cast of countenance proper to it. I shall only fur- 
ther observe, that however dispersed among the na- 
tions of the earth, the Jews are a people not re- 
lated, or allied, to any of them, but continue pecu- 
liar and distinct. 

Beside national distinctions of feature, the nume- 
rous Disorders to which mankind are subject, are 
considerable sources of Character. It is not difficult 
to distinguish sickness, or indisposition, from health : 
distempers, whether acute or chronical, generally 
produce correspondent effects in the countenance. 
Some persons from their birth are afflicted with dis- 
orders, which, by preying on their constitutions, 
induce melancholy, pain, peevishness ; their faces 
are pale, wan, livid ; the airs of their countenances 
dejected and despondent : more recent sufferings 
subject others to similar tokens. Some diseases ex- 
press themselves evidently ; such as the jaundice, 
dropsy, &c. which we pass. 

I wish here to remark, that Dress, though no 

essential part of the person, is yet an essential part 

of character : the features of a face cannot be 

2 changed, 


changed, but their appendages may be, and accord- 
ingly have been, almost ad infinitum. For instance 
— The absence, or superfluity of the hair of the 
beard, and that of the head, the different forms into 
which it is curled, twisted, or plaited, and the in- 
numerable ornaments to which mankind have had, 
and still have, recourse, for an addition of (supposed) 
elegance, contribute very much to diversity of cha- 

It was, certainly, a pleasant as well as curious 
work, composed by one Dr. Bulwer in the last 
century, which he called " Anlhrnpo-Metamorphos'is ; 
Man transformed, or the Artificial Changeling;" 
wherein he shews what a strange variety of shapes 
and dresses mankind have adopted, in the different 
ages and nations of the world. Even during our 
own time, we mav remember no small difference in 
the same person, occasioned by that variety of fa- 
shion which has appeared among us. If we extend 
our thoughts a few generations, we find the hair worn 
almost plain, and whiskers in vogue ; afterwards, 
enormous bushes of black hair, succeeded by equally 
enormous bushes of white ; not to mention innumer- 
able revolutions in other parts of dress, from long to 
short, and from short to long ; each pleading some 
kind of elegance, or taste, to recommend it, — each 
alternately justly exploded. 

Not that every new mode of dress, or of de- 
coration., is thought elegant at first ; but, after 
the eye has been sufficiently accustomed to it, we 
commend it. In facl, the force of custom is 



incredible ; could it else ever have been thought 
handsome, to wear the toes of the shoes half a 
yard in length, insomuch that necessity obliged 
the wearer to tie them to his knees ? or unless 
this potent principle had reconciled the ladies to 
the enormity of their dress, could our wise an- 
cestors have had occasion to enact a statute restrain- 
ing the immensity of ruffs ? 

The various dresses of mankind, perhaps, might 
have their origin in utility, but they are certainly 
retained by the power of custom. Education has 
taught the youth to affix ideas of dignitv, or of ele- 
gance, to certain habits ; and willing to share the 
respect paid to these habits, they adopt them with 
readiness, if ever they have occasion to wear them. 
This is, especially, notorious, in relation to habits 
of office, which, though frequently unnatural, and 
cumbersome, yet seem to impart a certain import- 
ance to the wearer, correspondent to our regard for 
his station : in which respect they greatly contri- 
bute to character. 

The ruffs and caps of our forefathers would so 
effectually un-charatlenze a modern fine gentleman, 
that his most intimate acquaintance would not know 
him : nor is less remarkable the effect produced by 
the redundant full-bottomed wigs of our great law- 
officers ; to which, if the pendent beard were added, 
when Mr. Serjeant became a Judge, he might justly 
defy the acutest brother of the coif to discover him. 
In effect, the features of any man, who has not a 
very singular cast of countenance, may be so dis- 


guised by various forms of dress, as scarcely to ap- 
pear the same. The uses of this principle on the 
stage are notorious ; and perhaps in real life its in- 
fluence is much more frequent, and deceptive, than 
is generally imagined. 

I shall only remark further, that as the intention 
of a portrait is to preserve to posterity the likeness 
of a person, it appears to me, to be the effect of a 
vicious taste, when any one is painted, as it were, 
in masquerade. What relation has the character of 
Minerva sailing through the air, to a modern lady ? 
or that of a Gypsy, or Turkish dresses, or any fo- 
reign ornament ? Unless the real character of a Lady 
be what she is displeased with, or ashamed of, why 
assume one to which she has no relation, and that 
too in a picture whose merit is resemblance ? This 
disposition is still less pardonable in the other sex, 
who yet frequently forget how much dress contributes 
to character. I perfectly coincide with the idea, 
that in order to express situation and rank in life, 
something beside mere likeness may be admitted, or 
even may be necessary ; but how the robes of a Ro- 
man Consul contribute to/ the likeness of an Alder- 
man of London, or how the omission of a wig should 
signify a Poet, I protest is utterly beyond my com- 
prehension. That a gentleman, who has circumna- 
vigated the globe, should introduce some of his cu- 
riosities, is highly just ; but to whom beside himself 
would a New-Zealand mantle be proper ? 

I am not speaking against any becoming devia- 
tion from present fashion (I hate confinement to 



temporary taste) but against those uncharacteristic 
characters which some have adopted in portraiture, 
thereby transmitting wilikeuesses, by means of an art 
whose study and merit is fidelity. 

As a close to this lecture, we shall briefly notice 
a few of those subjects which are often introduced in 
painting, and to which the foregoing remarks may, 
in general, be applicable. 

It lias been debated among divines, whether it 
were lawful to exhibit a figure of the Deity *. as 
divines they might debate on its lawfulness; among 
artists, the matter had been quickly settled, by an 
universal acquiescence in its utter impossibility. What 
traits shall characterize the greatest, the best of 
beings, the source of being, the I AM ? When co- 
lours are discovered able to represent that light in 
which is no darkness at all ; then we may hope 
to express the character of Him who is supreme, and 
infinite : From such a character the utmost exertions 
of art must ever preserve an infinite distance. In my 
opinion, the church of Rome, in permitting such 
pictures, does equal dishonour to the subject, and 
injury to art : Perfection ! — what human powers 
are competent to represent perfection ? 

But in the person of Jesus Christ the restraint 
is taken off, and the human nature of Christ is equally 
with others a subject for the pencil ; not that there 
is the least reason to suppose his portrait ever was 
taken, or that St. Luke is the author of those attri- 
buted to him, which are universally painted in so 
wretched a style, as to make us artists not a little 
ashamed for our patron saint. 

Edit. 7. U J n 


In the character which the greatest painters have 
chosen to represent Christ, there appears a very ge- 
neral resemblance of features ; because, the parts 
which composed his moral character being perma- 
nent, his picturesque character (so to term it) con- 
tains such traits as correspond with it. Meekness, 
benevolence, compassion, mingled with dignity 
(sometimes with fervor, never with anger or pride), 
forbid the marks of irregular passions, which, alas \ 
are too universal among mankind. To represent him 
at any period during his life, it should be remem- 
bered, that he was " a man of sorrows, and ac- 
quainted with grief;" but after his resurrection, as 
his sorrows and grief are past, his countenance must 
exhibit complacency, majesty, and dignity. 

The Apostles should be drawn in a style suitable 
to their apostolic office, and not to their previous 
professions : Peter, as an apostle, should have more 
dignity united to his warmth, than is due to him as a 

As the stations of Peter and John are very con- 
spicuous in Evangelical History, they are naturally 
introduced into most compositions representing Gos- 
pel events ; and artists have generally agreed in the 
character proper to each : but, to retain, as some 
have done, the youthful appearance of John, when 
the story related happened in his old age, is absurd ; 
no excuse can justify so flagrant a violation of pictu- 
resque propriety. 

Judas Iscariot requires very distinct features 
from any of the other Apostles ; for, though it is 
evident the disciples rather suspected themselves than 

hi m 


him (so fairly did he preserve appearances), yet, un- 
less the artist be permitted to employ some signs of 
his baseness, he cannot readily be distinguished as 
the traitor and the thief. 

We have authority to suppose St. Paul was mean 
and diminutive in person, and troubled with a disor- 
der very probably nervous, or paralytic. Under 
these embarrassments, what traits shall express the 
dignity of sentiment, the persuasive energy, the elo- 
quent pathos of that inspired apostle ? 

To advert now to another part of our subject,—- 
Profane I Iistory affords innumerable instances of 
diversity' of character. The effeminate Sardana- 
jialus, the heroic Alexander, the sublime Plato, 
must not resemble each other in character, indepen- 
dent of likeness to their portraits: Cesar must be 
distinct from Nero, and Trajan from Caligula. 

Poetry presents an inexhaustible fund of subjects 
for the exertions of Design : and as art enjoys the 
greatest liberty when engaged upon them, because 
creatures of fancy, so it is expected that a fertile 
imagination and a skilful hand should embody, as it 
were, the ideas of poetry, and present to the eye the 
similitudes of deities or heroes, of nymphs or sylvans, 
with freedom and vigour : but, if imagination should 
run riot, and attempt to express these creatures of 
ardent conception, without accurate attention to cha- 
racter, what heterogeneous mixtures would it pro- 
duce ! " Confusion worse confounded" would be its 
proper motto. 

It is no new observation, that the genius necessary 
to poetry and to painting is greatly similar, of which 

U % this 


this article is a striking instance : for, unless both 
poet and painter carefully maintain in their works a 
regular and obvious discrimination of character, the 
beauty and excellence of their performances vanish'. 
This has been accomplished by our sublime poet 
Milton with great felicity; the characters in his 
Paradise Lost are distinguished with the utmost skill 
and success. Whoever enters into the spirit of Mil- 
ton's portraits, will not only be highly entertained, 
but greatly improved ; their variety and expression 
is noble and sublime. To notice the instances in 
which Shakspere furnishes strongly- marked cha- 
racter, would prolong this lecture beyond its proper 
limits; especially as expression will in some de- 
gree revive the principles of character. 

From these remarks, it appears, that one mean 
whereby to attain a competent discernment of pictu- 
resque character is, a familiar acquaintance with the 
works of our best authors ; whoever with attention 
to this hint reads the Spectators, which contain 
accounts of Sir Roger de Coverlet, will quickly 
perceive rhe diversity of features necessary to distin- 
guish him from Will. Honeycomb, or Sir An- 
drew Freeport. 

What a wide extent has this subject ! we have tra- 
velled in one lecture almost over the universe ; may * 
I iiatter myself our entertainment has compensated 
the fatigue of the journey ? at least, being happily 
arrived thus far, let us review the course we have 

We have traced mankind from the cradle to the 
grave : Infancy, Youth, Maturity, Age : How 



quickly repeated ! how soon determined ! notwith- 
standing their different rank, situation, and fortune. 
The various inclinations to which we are subject, the 
habits we acquire, the national distinctions by which 
we are diversified, and the disorders incident to our 
nature, have been noticed : and likewise some cha- 
racters in particular, as instances of what this subject: 
is capable. Let us now, if you please, conclude, by 
reflecting how fickle, how frail, are many accidental 
advantages, which elate the sons and daughters of 
Adam ! " Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain ;" 
what is thought almost divine in one country, is dis- 
regarded in another ; whereas virtue and wisdom, 
excellencies attainable by us all, not confined to stal- 
lion or climate, are highly beloved and valued where- 
£ver they are cultivated. 

ME A- 


[lect. VI. 


o p 




Eye in front - 

Eye in profile - 

Eye-lid ----- 
From the eye-lid to the eye-brow - 
Projection of the eye-brow 
Width of the nostrils - 

Apparent depth of the nostrils 
Projection of the nose - 
Width at nostrils seen underneath - 
Width between the nostrils 
Width of the nose in profile 
Width of the nostril - 

Width of the mouth in profile 
From the top of the under lip to the commence- 
ment of the chin 
Width of the mouth in front 
Depth of the chin - 

Apollo. Vena.-. 

5 min.~ 
2 m. 

1 m. 

2 m.i 

1 IB. 


1 mi 
7 m. 

5 m. 


6 m.i. 

2 m.* 



5 m 
2 m 

m _ 
2 m.l 


4 m.i 

2 m. 

6 m. 

3 m.j- 

5 m. 3 m. 
9 m. 7 m.i 
5 m.-j 6 m. 

These figures being justly esteemed models of 
male and female beauty, the variation of their pro- 
portions deserves to be accurately noticed. In the 
Apollo, the most elegant features are united with the 
greatest dignity of character and expression. 


L"E'CT. VI.] 151 





A comparison similar to the foregoing, of the propor- 
tion of their parts, may be made between these cha- 
racters of which we have given outlines, measured 
from the antique ; as appears by the following state- 

Antinous. Apollo. Fragment. Hercules. 

Proportion of the eyes 5 m. 6 m. 5i — ■ ■■■ 
Across the centre 

of the face 2 p. 2 m. 2 p. 2. m. > 

Across the neck I p. 10 m. 2 p. 1 p. 8 m. 1 p. ll m. 

Neck in profile 1 p. 10 m. 1 p. Q m. 2 p. 5 m. 


It appears, from hence, that the face of Hercules 
is by no means larger than those of the other sub- 
jects, but his neck is of great dimensions, which gives 
him a remarkable appearance of strength. The stu- 
dent will observe, for himself, the difference in other 

These four plates are instances selected from the 
Antique Statues of characters contrasted by their dif- 
ferent proportions, as they have been measured with 
no mean skill by the famous engraver M. Audran. 
The measures marked upon them enable the stu- 
dent to distinguish the relative proportions of each 
feature : these should be drawn on a larger scale, and 
the proportion of their measures accurately verified. 


152 [ 

CHILDHOOD, outline and finished. 










From a Drawing by the late Mr. Mortimer. 


From a Drawing by the late Mr. Mortimer. 


From a Sketch in Oil by Worlidge. 


From a Drawing by Mr. Sam. Shelley. 


tlECT. VI.] 2 53 


These plates are given to shew excess in charac- 
ter, arid it appears by them how nearly the human 
countenance may resemble the features of brutes ; 
and also how much the various modes of wearing the 
hair, beard, &c. disguise the face. In A and B, we 
see the surly sharpness of the wolf; and however (to 
render it more sensible) this head may seem removed 
from nature, yet those who have visited wild and un- 
civilized parts, will readily admit the resemblance. 
C C shews a variety allied to the goat, to which like- 
ness the beard, &c. greatly contribute. D D shews 
the similarity to the ox, to whose plodding aspect 
we are no strangers in England. 

Those who have studied this subject, have been 
Very fertile in finding many additional relations, as 
well to birds as beasts ; and if we may believe them, 
the qualities of the mind are not infrequently coin- 
cident with such indications, although good sense, a 
happy education > virtuous morals, or other causes, 
may counteract, in behaviour, such natural propen- 

It is evident, that, in these excesses of character, 
Beauty is lost ; and as that ought to be our princi- 
pal study in treating the human countenance, we 
should generalize our ideas and principles as much as 
may be, lest too strongly-marked personal peculi- 
arities should appear offensive ; and even, perhaps, 
allied to brutality. 

Edit. 7. X QF 

154 [Le-ct. vi, 


There is no possibility of measuring any angle*, 
or angular figures, without having fixed points, and 
lines, from whence to determine their obliquity. 
Therefore, in measuring those lines which may be 
described, or furnished, by the features of the human 
countenance, we establish — -first , as an horizontal 
standard, a line djawn from the nose to the ear : or 
more precisely, from the opening of the nostril, 
as the commencement of the passage for the sense 
of smelling, to the opening of the ear, as the 
commencement of the passage for the sense of 
hearing. This line continued passes through the 
places of the nose, the cheeks, the ear. and the 
hinder part of the head ; and is the basis for subse- 
quent operations : and to which other parallel lines 
may be drawn as convenient. 

All perpendicular lines must be at right angles (i. e. 
QO c ) from all horizontal lines. Now it seems most 
convenient to establish one of these perpendicular 
lines at the place of the ear ; as being generally about 
the center of the head, seen in profile. Another at 
the very profile of the countenance. To these lines 
others parallel, may be added at discretion. 

In profiles, that line which describes or represents 
the situation of the parts of the face, is called the 
facial line : and is usually drawn from the lips 
through the contour of the forehead, upwards ; and 
from the lips to the extremity of the chin, down- 


LECT. VI.] 155- 


The first Set, of National Countenances, 

containing Five Profiles, 

N. B. These may be placed as usual : or they may be 
so placed as to exhibit each set at one view, by fold- 
ing opposite to each other. 

( 1 ) The profile of a Cercopithecus, or tailed mon- 
key : an Airican species. 

(2) The profile of a Negro : about eleven years 
of age. 

(3) The profile of a Calmuc : a tribe of Tartars. 

(4) The profile of a European : such as gene- 
rally occur on the continent. 

(5) The profile of a head, advancing toward the 
principles thought to be adopted by the ancients : 
such as does not occur in nature ; but must be re- 
ferred to ideal beauty. 

Each of these furnishes appropriate observations. 

The forehead of the Monkey is flat and level: 
and just swells perceptibly a little above the brows. 
A facial line drawn from the forehead to the most 
projecting part of the countenance (the upper lip) 
(i. e. from m to g) forms with the horizontal line 
drawn from the nose to the ear, an angle of 42 

The auditory canal appears to be set very back- 
ward in the head, /. e. almost eight parts in ten of 
its whole length. 

X 2 In 

15(5 [lect. vi. 

In the head of the young Negro, the facial line 
drawn from the forehead to the lips (/. e. from m to 
g) forms an angle of 66 degrees with the horizontal 
line drawn through the nose and ear. The auditory 
canal is situated about the middle of that line. 

The facial line of the Calmuc (m g) forms with 
the horizontal line (h 1) an angle of 66 degrees. 

The auditory canal is further back than in the 
negro ; the proportion of that part of the horizontal 
line from h to k, being to that from k to 1, as 1 1 
to S. 

In the head of a European, the facial line drawn 
from the forehead to the lips, forms an angle of 80 
degrees with the horizontal line drawn through the 
nose and ear. The auditory canal is about half way 
of the horizontal line. 

The Ideal Head supposes the facial lines to be 
altogether perpendicular, (as a d) whereby the angle 
is increased to po degrees : and the upper parts of 
the head are brought considerably forward ; they are 
at th,e same raised, so that the back of the head (be- 
hind and belovj the ear) will appear to lose of its con- 
tents; while the parts before the ear, and above the 
eye, will appear to gain. 

This principle, of elevating the facial line, has 
been carried by the ancients so far as to the 100th 
degree. So that, in facl, the upper parts of the 
head have projecled considerably over the perpendi- 
cular line, and this is the maximum of ideal beauty, 
beyond which commences deformity. Such is the 
opinion of Professor Gamier ; and I think there 
is something in it, but. in my opinion, not all that he 


LECT. VI."] 157 

imagined. The grace of the antique heads, is ow- 
ing, I presume, to wider principles (/". e.) of attitude, 
and expression. A judicious selection of beauties from 
nature, thereby composing a single beauty, ex- 
tremely beautiful, is, I think, the very summit of 
art : and only in that sense am I willing to advise 
Artists to surpass nature. The simple idea of where 
the ancient statues were designed to be placed, and 
from whence they were intended to be viewed ; ac- 
counts, in my opinion, for many peculiarities in them, 
which, without the same justificatory reasons, are 
absolute blemishes. There is much important ob- 
servation in the professor's remark, l( The ancients, 
by inclining their heads forwards (especially in their 
statues) have greatly contributed to render them 
grand and majestic ;" he might have added gracious 
and graceful ; from which combination arises much 
of that superiority for which they are justly admired. 

In proportion as the facial line is elevated, the 
lines which describe certain other parts of the face 
are moved : that line which describes the course of 
the lower jaw, as the parts of the head are elevated 
and thrown forward, becomes shorter ; because it 
continually recedes towards the ear. 

The Eyes, which in the Cercopithecus project, be- 
yond the orbicular limits of the eye, and in the 
Negro, and CaJmuc, are almost even with them, in 
the European recede, or sink in ; and in the antique 
recede still more, which it is very material to ob- 
serve : as by their recession, the eye-brows appear to 
advance, or become prominent : whereby they cast a 
strong shadow on the parts beneath them, 


158 [lect. VI, 

The line which passes along the ear, dividing it r 
vertically, is always somewhat oblique in nature (as 
appears in the line t s, in the plate of the old head 
No. LXXV.) and never upright. The ancients almost 
(if not quite) always contrived to conceal this line, and 
most of the upper parts of the ear : in many of their 
figures it would have been upright had they shewn 
it : but this defect is hidden ; apparently, with great: 

. A principal and governing feature in the face, is, 
the prominence of the upper jaw (described by the 
triangle, m g s ; the forehead, the lips, and the 
chin,) in the Negro, and Cahnuc, in whom it appears 
very considerable ; whereas, in the European, it has 
almost disappeared ; or, at least, is become insensi- 
ble : as it is also in the ideal head. 

. The under-jaw projects as much as the upper-jaw, 
in Negroes, &c. but not so in the antique. From h 
to g is further in the Cahmic, than in the Negro, and 
in the Negro further than in the European : in conse- 
quence, the upper lip, which occupies great part of: 
this space, is thicker and longer in the Cahnuc, he. 
than in the European, having more room so to be, 
as well as being so required in order to cover the 
upper-teeth, which, in these subjects, project con- 

When the chin, &C; projects, the neck seems to 
be proportionally shorter : the heads of the Cahnuc 
tribes in general fall rather forward ; those of Negroes 
rather backward, that of the European is balanced 
more accurately. 








a. d. 

a b. 

from the 
Eye to 

of the 
a. m. 

from the 
Nose to 
the Ear. 










f ' 





1 1 













3| If 




iJ 1 


1 t 




1 " 







'Jew-born Infant 




2» * 

Z 4 8 



One Year old 



2 1 








Old Age 









. 1 










De Wit 













]6o [lect. vi. 


Second Set of National Countenances, con* 
taming Front Views of the same Faces. 

The first is a front view of an Oran Otan (not the 
Monkey seen before in profile) which is considered 
by some as the nearest approach ro the human form, 
if not to humanity : but if this be the nearest, cer- 
tainly it is sufficiently distant. 

In new-born Infants, the eyes are very large in 
proportion to their orbits ; they are pretty distant 
from each other, but not the complete distance of 
an eye : the nose and mouth are small. 

In the Child of one year old, the eyes yet seem 
large ; the lower part of the face longer than the 
former ; the forehead higher. The height of the 
head to its width is as 20 to 12. 

As the heads of children vary greatly, not only 
from each other, but abo each from itself in its ad- 
vances toward maturity j there is scarcely any possi- 
bility of determining their proportions. This figure 
exhibits those to which the best artists have usually 

A. B. is equal to 1 1. 

A. G. divided into two parts at D. gives the width 
Z, D, F. 

The head is the width of four eyes. 

The orbits of the eyes should not be made too 


tECT. VI.] l6l 

The Negro : his head in height (h, i,) is in pro- 
portion to its breadth (o, p,) as 27 to 20 : its breadth 
at m, n, is as 11. The under-jaw u, v, is as 12. 

The whole countenance therefore diminishes 
greatly from level with the eye -brows (o, p,) toward 
the bottom ; the chin being pretty oval ; the nose 
and its nostrils wide, but not excessive : the eyes are 
less distant from each other than the width of the 
nose : the orbits of the eyes of this Negro were very 
large ; the proportions of this feature are extremely 
variable. The mouth is two-thirds the width of that 
part of the face where it is placed. The ears are 
small, and somewhat distant from the head, as is 
common among this race of people. 

The head of the Calmuc, is in height (h i) to its 
breadth (o p) as 32 to 20 : at m, n, it is to o, p, as 
24 to 20 : the widest part of this face, therefore, is 
at the cheek-bones ; and it decreases both towards its 
top, and towards its bottom : its whole figure some- 
what approaching the lozenge form. The nose is 
not very large ; but the nostrils are pretty open. 

The orbits of the eyes approach each other closely 1 
much nearer than in the Negto. The eyes are small. 

The ears are hid from sight by the great width of 
the cheeks. 

The head of the European, is in height (h, i,) to 
its breadth (o, p,) as 29 to 23. 

The oval formed by this head is consequently 
much shorter than that of the Negro. The eyes are 
further distant from each other. The ears are much 
closer to the head than those of the Negro. The 
mouth is much smaller, and the lips much thinner. 

Edit. 7- Y PLATES 

]62 [lect. vi. 


The Progress of the Countenance from Infancy 

to Age. 

In the skull of the newly-born infant, (plate 
LXXI.) the cranium may be regarded as a complete 
oval, to the front of which the jaws are attached at 
bottom : this form is not so constant but that it some- 
times varies, but not greatly. 

The forehead and the chin are on the same vertical 
line (a, d.) 

The orbit of' the eye is equal to about one-fifth 
part of the line a, d, which is the proportion of a 
full grown face : the upper-jaw is but shallow, because 
the infant has no teeth. 

The under-jaw is formed pretty much on the same 
principle ; and for the same reason. 

The little distance there is from the upper-jaw, 
and from the bone of the nose, to the cheek, renders 
the profile faces of children of equal projection. 

New-born children have no frontal sinus, (or hol- 
low in the bone of the forehead, above the nose, and 
the orbit of the eye) but the forehead preserves a uni- 
form continuity of figure. 

The nose is small ; and nearly one-fifth part of the 
line a, d. 

The head is deeper from front to back than it is 
high from chin to forehead: not much in this sub- 
ject, but in some children the difference is consi- 

The center of motion in the neck, is not under the 

middle of the head, but is placed somewhat forward, 

which is the reason why the head? of children so 

2 readily 

LECT. VI.] ]63 

readily fall forward, and so often decline on their 

The external organ of hearing grows remarkably 
in children : as also the mastoidal apophyse. 

The second figure (plate LXXII.) represents the 
head of a child about a twelvemonth old, in which 
appear several alterations : for, now the depth of the 
head from front to back is encreased ; so that the line 
a, b, is much longer than the line a, d. 

The orbit of the eye is not much changed. 

The forehead is somewhat raised, and advances 
before the line a, d. as also do both jaws : in fa 61, in 
order to contain the teeth, which now begin to oc- 
cupy more or less space, these parts are in size dou- 
ble what they were : the increase of the lower parts 
of the face is general, and evident. 

The upper-jaw projects (but not much) more be- 
fore the line a, d. 

The third figure, (plate LXXIII.) is the repre- 
sentation of a head at mature age ; which com- 
pared with the foregoing, shews sundry variations. 

The nose in growing acquires a rising in the mid- 
dle ; which in some persons becomes aquiline: neither 
Negroes, nor Asiatics, have this rising in any sen- 
sible degree : neither have the antique statues. 

The anterior part of the nose, from the tip of the 
nose to the cheek, is longer in Europeans than in 
other continental races. 

The natural position of the teeth, in general, pro- 
je61:s the mouth a little. 

The chin seems somewhat to recede. 

This being the same head as No. 4, in the first 
series, several remarks have been already made on it. 

Y 2 The 

104 [lect. vi. 

The Fpurth Subject, (plate LXXIV.) is a Head of 
Old Age. 

This is a Woman s Head ; but the same principles 
of variation apply to both Sexes. 

The first thing remarkable in this head is,, the dif- 
ference produced by the loss of teeth : now in old 
age, not only are the teeth lost, but also the gums, 
and alveoli, wherein their roots were inserted : by 
this cause the inferior jaw is diminished rn height ; 
and the mouth becomes so shallow, that often it can 
hardly contain the tongue. As the tongue, by this 
shallowness of the jaw, is pressed, with the os hyoides, 
toward the roof of the mouth, it is not held so closely 
as before with its root, but is apt to fall forward 
whenever aged persons incline their heads. By this 
aptitude the tongue appears longer than formerly. 

The nose, whose prop, the jaw, is now impaired 
by loss of teeth, inclines toward the mouth, over 
which it almost seems to hang. 

The forehead, above the nose, projects more than 
heretofore, because the frontal sinus is larger : hence 
also, the hollow at the junction of the nose and fore- 
head, becomes more apparent. 

The whole upper-jaw becomes hollower ; and the 
front which formerly projected now recedes ; where- 
by the whole upper-lip seems fallen into the mouth ; 
and the nose seems larger, not only than it was, but 
also than it really is. 

The lower jaw is now, by the loss of its teeth, so 
much in the power of its muscles, which no longer 
£nd the resistance they formerly did, that it is drawn 


LECT. VI.] l65 

up by them : hence the gums press each other in the 
mouth ; and by consequence the point, d, advances 
before the line a, d, to g. From these causes, the 
distance from the nose to the chin, becomes one- 
sixth part of the head shorter than before ; whereby 
the nose and the chin almost seem to meet. 

As the chin (in front) is drawn upward, the angles 
of the mouth (behind) decline ; and the little muscles 
of the skin of the neck tighten like cords, and be- 
come very observable. The wrinkles of the skin 
constantly cross the fibres of the muscles ; conse- 
quently they are horizontal on the forehead : while 
around the eyes they form the spur, or crow's foot : 
their direction on the neck is horizontal ; on the 
under-jaw almost perpendicular p. 

These alterations are not wholly seated in the skin, 
or muscular parts of the face ; the very bones them- 
selves undergo no trifling alterations : and indeed 
they are the true origin of this decrepitude. 

To render more sensible the progress of charaBer 
in the countenance, as resulting from the changes 
incident to age, we have repeated this figure, and 
superadded to it, the lines of the countenance at ma- 
turity, from plate LXXIII. By placing the finger 
so as to hide first one set of lines, and then the other, 
the variations of each will become more evident : 
and, at pleasure, these lines will represent either ma- 
turity, or old age. 


166 [lect. vi. 


As the first approach in appearance toward old age, 
we begin by enlarging the (frontal sinus, or) cavity 
above the nose : thereby forming a considerable pro- 
tuberance, in that part. Then, by taking away the 
teeth of the upper-jaw ; we move the point of resist- 
ance to the under-jaw, from the teeth to the gums, 
and to the bone of the jaw itself ; the same depriva- 
tion being suffered by the under-jaw, the mouth be- 
comes elevated (at the same time falling back) from 
D. E, to d, e. Next we shall draw the facial line 
from N, though the frontal prominence g, to O, and 
P, then placing one foot of the compasses on A, the 
articulating apophysis of the under-jaw (at the ear) 
we trace with the opening A, C. (the former chin) 
the facial line C, c, till it cuts the facial line in O, 
(which now becomes the place of the chin) then 
drawing also from A, the line B, b ; we finish the 
chin ; and unite the under-lip with the upper at 
d, e : drawing also the ear M, toward m ; and now 
the face of mature age, assumes the aspect of old age. 

It deserves notice, that the skin of the ears in old 
age becomes more ample ; and this part of the head 

This experiment may be repeated in a directly 
contrary manner : i. e. with design tQ change the 
head of old age, into that of mature life and vigour. 
In which case we must decrease the frontal sinus G, 
g, h ; and pare off the projection to render it flatter : 
we must also make room for the teeth, and their ap- 
pendages : which very considerable addition will 
drive down the mouth from d e, to D E, and will 
also at the same time project it, and, by keeping the 
lower-jaw in its place, will move the point of the 
chin from c, to C ; thereby, more or less moving 
each of the parts which accompany it, throughout 
the whole of its course, from thence (C) to L, to B, 
and to M, its iunction with the lower part of the ear. 


LECT. VI.] jg- 


As this mode of shewing the variations of the 
countenance has both study and amusement in it, 
we give also, on the same principles, the represen- 
tation of those changes in the forms of the counte- 
nance which are related to national distinctions of 
feature: repeating the remark, that by laying the 
finger over either system of lines, we inspect the 
others at pleasure. And to the same principles all 
the varieties of national feature may be reduced. 

In this plate we trace two sets of lines, whereby it 
appears, that, preserving the station of the ear, and 
of the eye, by merely prolonging the jaws, we pro- 
duce most of the variations of Character. By 
drawing the facial line at 85 degrees, we have the 
European countenance : to vary this into the Negro, 
draw the facial line at 70 degrees ; immediately the 
upper-jaw conceals part of the projection of the 
nose, or (rather perhaps of the nostrils) the mouth 
advances from a, C, to E, B ; and the chin from O 
to H ; even if the other parts I, M, L, &c. be sup- 
posed stationary. 



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Difference of Maturity and Age 




Ladies and Gentlemen, 

_1 HE principles of expression must He drawn 
from the operations of Nature, and Nature alone ; 
no reasonings a priori can avail us here, or discover 
wherefore one part of the person is more affected by 
Certain sensations of the mind than another, or, why 
that part is not differently affected from what it is. 
That the various emotions of all parts of the person 
are really the effects of mental affections is indubita- 
ble, though we are ignorant of the manner in which 
those affections act upon the various members of the 
body, or by what secret springs these inert composi- 
tions of clay are impelled by the energy of a spi- 
ritual agent : but that they are so impelled is beyond 

However various the opinions, or apprehensions^ 
of mankind may be on certain subjects, yet on others 
they are perfectly correspondent, and similar; a sense 
of the same wants, the same weaknesses, the same 
desires, obtains among all men, when those wants$ 
weaknesses, and desires are natural. By this sym- 
pathy mankind acknowledge their mutual relation ; 

Edit, ft Z and 


and this acknowledgment would be still more expli- 
cit, and frequent, were it not for a thousand unhappy 
causes which promote division and enmity between 
creatures of the same species : different customs, in- 
terests, manners, languages, all contribute to this 
confusion ; yet in spite of every obstacle, the neces- 
sities of a fellow-man are at least understood, if not felt 
and relieved by us. For, should a stranger from 
some remote part of the globe request a service, or 
intreat a favor, though ignorant of his language, we 
should yet discover his meanings and his wants, if 
they were natural ; because we are well acquainted 
with the manner in which we ourselves should in- 
treat, if our situation required intreaty : as should 
those whom we besought refuse our request, we 
should perfectly comprehend their denial without a 
word ; their actions, or their general appearance, 
would relate it sufficiently. 

This system, I apprehend, is the foundation of 
expression in general, and is justly applicable to that 
part of expression which now engages our consider- 
ation ; for, the head being in a sense the source and 
seat of passion, it is natural to suppose its effects 
should be most evident, forcible, and intelligible in 
that member. 

Passion is an emotion of the mind, which exerts 
itself to attain what appears desirable, or to avoid 
what appears offensive ; if disappointed in the at- 
tainment of what is desired, or the prevention of 
what is offensive, the sensations of the mind are pro- 
portionate to its feeling, and its resentment. In ge- 
neral, whatever affects the mind, produces an action 



of the body, in whole, or in part ; for the mind is 
well assured, that, would it receive what it desires, 
the hand must be employed as the organ of recep- 
tion ; would it advance towards an object, an exer- 
tion of the foot is indispensable ; or would it escape 
from what seems dangerous, that is not to be accom- 
plished by standing still, but by vigorous alacrity. 
Now, as it is certain that bodily motions are the re- 
sult of mental passions, in examining this subject, 
we desire to know what motions of the body, or of 
any part, is the constant result of (i. e. is peculiar to) 
any certain passion : that some are constant and pe- 
culiar is evident, since, otherwise, they might be 
understood in a contrary sense from what they in- 
tend, or at least they might be interpreted at random ; 
which we have just observed they are not. This ra- 
ther relates to the expression of the figure than to 
that of the countenance ; we shall therefore reserve a 
consideration of it to its proper place : but I appre- 
hend a few slight hints, and very slight they must 
be, on the subject of the passions, may not impro- 
perly be introduced here. 

When the philosopher Simon ides was desired to 
give a definition of Deity, he requested a day to 
consider of it ; at the expiration of that time, being; 
pressed for his answer, he requested two clays, and 
then four ; " For I find," says he, " that the more 
I contemplate, the less I approach to any satisfactory 
idea, or conception, of the ineffable subject." And 
much the same situation is he in, who inquires, 
" What is the human mind? What are its proper^ 
ties, and its laws ? How is it united to the body ? 

Z 2 How 


How does it act upon, and is acted upon by it ?" — 
Gur powers are so confined while inhabiting these 
bodies, that we are ignorant even of ourselves, and 
of our most intimate connection. 

But those affections of the mind which accompany 
bodily wants, or sensations, are not totally concealed 
from us : for, by the reciprocal action of body on 
mind, and mind on body, they become subject 'to. 
our investigation and inspection. Pain, for instance, 
is an idea transmitted to the mind by the body 
(which, separate from the mind, is insensible) ; now 
that the mind is affected by pain, appears, from those 
tokens of its feelings which it communicates to the 
body, and especially to certain parts by which it is 
accustomed to express that idea ; so that, although 
the immediate seat of pain be in the foot, or the 
hand, the countenance will exhibit the tokens of 
pain equally strong as if itself suffered. Again, in 
any violent paroxysm of the mind, or in any of its 
gloomy and despondent sufferings, the traces of those 
affections are transmitted to the grosser part of our 
composition, and that which itself is incapable of 
thought or of meditation, yet informs us what is the 
employment of the mind ; and by constantly receiv- 
ing these impressions, it retains them so strongly, 
that we discern in some what habit of study and re- 
flection they have indulged, and whether the sub- 
jects of their investigation are serious or ludicrous. 

Passions, with regard to expression, may be di- 
vided into simple and compound ; by simple, 
meaning those which have some single direct object, 
and which, therefore, generally arise from, and cen- 


tre in, one's self. I might call these natural passions : 
such, undoubtedly, is love between the sexes, the 
effect of inevitable and providential situation ; a pas- 
sion which was exercised before man had any sense 
of fear, of sorrow, of anger, or of compassion. De- 
sire accompanies Love ; and Joy, as expressing satis- 
faction in the object possessed. By compound pas- 
sions, we may understand those which have more 
than one object in apprehension, or which are com- 
posed of several sensations. Take an instance in 
fear,, and its relatives. Were you to see a prodi- 
gious stone falling from the top of some lofty preci- 
pice on a person, you would feel a mixture of pas- 
sions working within you : such as, — an alarm for his 
danger, — a wish to save him, — a hope he may escape ; 
if he really does escape, your anxiety is changed into 
gratulation, and sympathetic joy : if he is crushed, 
you pity his fate, you compassionate his misfortune. 
Now here is no one simple passion exercised ; the 
mind is variously agitated by objects, in which an 
individual himself may have no personal share. 
Should the subject of this event, whether of the 
escape, or the disaster, be some near and beloved 
friend ; it increases the vivacity and strength of our 
sensations, and our possession, or our loss, impresses 
us according to the esteem wherein we held the party. 
The nearest approach to a single passion, would be a 
sense of thankfulness, that this fatal accident did not 
befall ourselves. Again, fear may be united with 
anger, as resenting an injury ; or with hatred, or 
with jealousy, and suspicion : or any of these pas- 
sions with each other. These compositions of ex- 


pression afford great scope to the abilities of an intel- 
ligent artist. 

Among the simple passions we usually reckon 
love, desire, joy; and their contraries, hatred, 
aversion, grief. Prior to all is admiration, 
whose language is a kind of — what is it ? for we 
naturally enquire the properties of an object, before 
we desire or love it ; since it may be unfit for desire 
or love : or before we hate, and dislike it ; since it 
may, on examination, prove to be the very thing we 
wish for. 

Compound passions are, fear, hope, courage, 
despair, &c. We are told by M. le Brun, that, 
that part of the face where the passions shew them- 
selves most distinctly is the eye-brow, though many 
have supposed it to be the eye. It is true, says he, 
the eye-ball, by its fire and motion, shews clearly 
the agitation of the mind, but it does not express 
the nature of that agitation. The mouth and the 
nose have a great share in expression ; but, in gene- 
ral, these parts only follow the motions of the heart. 

It has been said, that in the mind reside two ap- 
petites, one mild, the other ferocious, from whence 
proceed all the passions ; so in the eye-brow there 
are two motions which express their sensations : these 
two motions coincide perfectly with those two appe- 
tites ; and it is remarkable, that in proportion as the 
passions vary their nature, the movement of the 
brow varies its form. 

To express a simple passion, the movement is 

simple (A. B.) (vide Plates) ; in a compound 

passion, the movement is compound ; if the passion 

2 be 


be gentle, the movement is easy (C) ; if violent, so 
is the movement (D). 

But it must be remembered, that there are two 
kinds of elevation of the eye-brow ; one, when it 
rises in the middle, expressing agreeable sensations 
(E) ; when the brow thus rises (F), the corners of 
the mouth are elevated (G) ; whereas, in expressions 
of sorrow, the mouth is elevated in the middle (H) ; 
— but when the eye-brow sinks in the middle (I), 
denoting bodily pain, then the mouth sinks at it? 
corners (K). 

In laughter, all the parts follow each other ; for 
the brows descend tow r ard the centre of the fore* 
head, and make the nose, mouth, and eyes, follow 
the same motion (L). 

In weeping (M), the movements are compound 
and contrary ; for the eye-brows lower themselves 
toward the eyes and nose, toward which the mouth 
rises (N). 

When the heart is dejected, so are all parts of the 
face (O) ; but when the heart is inflamed and har- 
dened by some passion (P), the parts of the face fol- 
low a similar movement, particularly the mouth ; 
which proves that this part exhibits more especially 
the sensations of the heart. For, we must observe, 
that when the heart suffers, the corners of the mouth 
sink ; when it is satisfied, they rise (Q) ; when the 
heart has aversion to any object, the mouth expresses 
that aversion, by rising in the middle, and pouting. 

Thus we see that all parts of the face contribute 
to expression, according to the nature, and force, 
of the sentiment which impels them. Let us now 



consider distinctly the expression of each passion, 
that we may attain a clearer conception of its move- 

Admiration is the first and most temperate of 
the passions ; it is a surprise which strongly affects 
the mind at striking and extraordinary objects ; 
and which sometimes is so powerful, and so entirely 
engrosses the mind, that the body becomes motion- 
less as a statue. The face receives very little altera- 
tion, the eye-brow is somewhat elevated, the eye a 
little more open than usual, its attention fixed on 
the object which excites the passion^ the mouth half 
open, the other features without change. 

Excess of Admiration produces Astonishment, 
which may take place before we know whether the 
object be desirable or not ; insomuch, that it should 
seem, that admiration produces Esteem, or Contempt, 
according to the magnitude and importance, or di- 
minutiveness and insignificance of objects. The 
features of the countenance follow the forms which 
Admiration had marked for them, and differ from 
that passion chiefly, if not only, by exceeding it. 
We shall trace Admiration into its relative branches. 

If what has excited our attention appear to be 
good, to shew our regard and Esteem for it, we 
advance our heads toward it, as desiring closer in- 
spection of it : our eye-brows project, and approach 
toward each other, our eyes are very open, the eye- 
balls raised, the nostrils gently drawn backwards, the 
mouth a little opened, its corners retire and decline. 

From Esteem arises Veneration, which ex- 
presses itself by many of the same marks ; the eye- 


brows are gently bent as before, the eye attentively 
fixed on its object, and yet more elevated toward the 
brow, because the head.) through modesty, is in- 
clined downward ; the mouth rather more opened, 
and its corners somewhat more depressed than in 
Esteem, thereby denoting serious respect for its ob- 
ject ; but if it be not an object of sight, then the 
eyes and mouth will nearly close. 

If to Veneration succeed Rapture, or if Rap- 
ture arise immediately from Admiration, the headj 
instead of declining, will be elevated, and the eyes 
turned toward the object ; if Rapture be devotional, 
this elevation of the head will be moderated by the 
reverence of the mouth, shewn by a depression of its 

Hitherto we have supposed that the object of our 
attention was in its nature and properties good, esti- 
mable, venerable : let us change the idea, and sup- 
pose, on the contrary, that it is worthless, or tri- 
fling, then, to our original Surprise succeeds Con- 
tempt, and Scorn, which express themselves by a 
wrinkled brow, drawn backward next the nose, at 
the other extremity highly elevated ; the eye very 
open, the nostrils drawn up, the mouth shut, its cor- 
ners somewhat sunk ; and sometimes a pouting of the 
under-lip. To Contempt succeeds Disdain, whose 
motions are very similar. 

But that which caused our Admiration, may be 
neither good, that we should esteem it ; nor trivial, 
that we should scorn it : it may be threatening and 
dangerous ; then, to our examination of it succeeds 
Alarm, and Affright ; which, when violent, 

Edit. 7, A a elevates 


elevates the eye-brows, presses them on each other, 
and swells the muscles which contribute to these 
motions ; the eyes wide open roll in their sockets ; 
the nostrils are drawn up, the mouth is expanded, 
the hair of the head becomes erect, and the whole 
countenance" is strained. 

Horror is expressed by much the same situation 
of the eye-brows, and of the nostrils : (the iris ap- 
pearing at the bottom of the eye-ball) but the mouth 
not opened so wide, and strongly drawn downward 
at the corners. 

Thus have we traced one simple sentiment to its 
various extremes — of good, to Veneration ; — of in- 
significance, to Disdain ; — of evil, to Horror. 

I wish now to relieve our attention, by presenting 
a passion which nearly concerns us all ; whose aspect 
is desirable, pleasant, enchanting ; a passion from 
which arise most of the delights of life, most of the 
enjoyments of our nature ; implanted in our first pa- 
rents in their blissful state by their Creator ; and 
which, even in these degenerate days, produces, 
when well regulated, the most beneficial effects ; it 
polishes the mind, softens the manners, enlivens the 
conversation, cultivates the taste, humanizes human 
nature, and is the bond and centre of society : yet, 
on the other hand, when wild and licentious, it im- 
bitters the delights of life, and the enjoyments of 
nature ; poisons the mind, the manners, the conver- 
sation, the taste, and bursts the ties of social inter- 
course : not by its nature, but by its abuse ; not by 
its inclination, but by its depravity ; not as it is in- 
cident to the human mind, but because that mind 



has not sufficient virtue to moderate, to restrain, to 
regulate, what should produce its highest satisfaction 
and happiness. 

" Hail wedded Love ! mysterious law, true source 
Of human offspring, sole propriety 
In Paradise, of all things common else ; 
Founded in reason, loyal, just, and pure, 
Perpetual fountain of domestic sweets : 
Here Love his golden shafts employs, here lights 
His constant lamp, and waves his purple wings ; 
Reigns here and revels : not in the bought smile 
Of harlots j wanton masque, or midnight ball, 
Or serenade, which the starv'd lover sings 
To his proud fair, best 'quited with disdain." 

The motions raised in the countenance by Love 
are very gentle and simple ; the head inclines to the 
person beloved, the forehead is smooth, the eye- 
brows are a little elevated, the eyes gently opened, 
and looking toward the object of affection ; the 
white of the eye very lively and sparkling, the 
mouth smiling, partly open ; the tints of the com- 
plexion heightened and vivid. 

Desire presses the eye-brows together, projects 
them over the eyes, which are more open than usual, 
and full of fire ; the nostrils are contracted; the 
mouth is somewhat opened, and its corners are drawn 
back ; the colour of the face is animated, shewing 
much emotion of the mind. Desire agitates the 
heart more than any other passion, quickens every 
sense, and renders every part of the body alert. 

Hope is excited by a prospect of attaining the 
good we desire, and is a medium between fear and 
certainty : in consequence, its motions are so ambi- 

A a 2 guous, 


guous, that, when the countenance marks expecta- 
tion, it is still moderated by doubt ; the same is the 
state of the whole figure. 

If the expectations of Hope be fulfilled, Joy suc- 
ceeds, which smoothens the forehead, brightens the 
eyes, imparts a smile to the moitfh, and invigorates 
the colour of the face, especially of the cheeks and 

Desire naturally accompanies Love, and Hope fol- 
lows Desire : but sometimes Fear banishes Hope. 
The motions raised in the countenance by Fear are as 
follow : the eye-brow rises, the eye sparkles, and 
trembles in its motion ; the mouth is opened, drawn 
back, especially the under lip ; the face highly co- 
loured, but livid ; the lips likewise livid, and dry. 

" Hope deferred maketh the heart sick ;" then, 
instead of Joy, behold Grief ; this passion elevates 
the eye -brows more toward the middle of the fore- 
head, than on the side of the cheeks ; the eye-lids 
swell, the nostrils are lowered, the mouth is half 
open, its corners are turned downward, the lips are 
pale and colourless, and the whole head is declined. 

Jealousy wrinkles the forehead, sinks the eye- 
brows, and hides the eyes beneath them ; yet turns 
them askance at the object of suspicion, and while 
the head seems to look one way, the eyes, which 
are full of fire, contradict its motion ; the nostrils 
are pale, open, more marked than ordinary, drawn 
back - ? the mouth may be shut, its corners drawn 
back$ one part of the face may appear yellowish, 
another inflamed, the lips being pale. Hatred 



succeeds to Jealousy, and greatly resembles its ex- 
ternal motions. 

All these passions may arise from the same root ; 
and thus, from what is most excellent, ma^ spring 
what is most noxious. 

W e will trace the effects of a ferocious passion 
(Anger, for instance), and then dismiss this branch 
of our subject. 

Anger is a turbulent agitation of spirit, roused 
by vexation, and mingled with courage : by this 
passion the mind retires within itself, recoiling from 
injury received, and at the same time rises against 
the cause of that injury with purposes of vengeance : 
when Anger seizes the mind of him who is subject 
to this passion, it shews itself in the countenance by 
deeply wrinkling the forehead ; the eye-brows are 
now depressed, now elevated ; the eyes fnflamed, 
staring, rolling, sparkling ; the nostrils opened, en- 
larged, swelled ; the lips pressing against each other, 
the under lip drawn up equal to the upper, and the 
corners of the mouth somewhat open, forming a 
cruel and contemptuous smile : the teeth seem to 
gnash ; the face appears pale in some parts, red and 
swelled in others ; the veins of the forehead, the 
temples, the neck, raised and turgid : the hair ele- 
vated ; and, instead of breathing, Anger seems 
merely to puff, and swell. 

Rage succeeds to Anger, when its revenge c£n- 
noUbe gratified ; its motions are extremely violent : 
the face is almost black, covered with a cold sweat ; 
the hair standing erect, the eyes roving, and moving 
contrary ways, the ball sometimes drawn to one end 



of the eye-lid, sometimes to the other ; all the parts 
of the face being strongly marked and swelled. 

After Rage we place Despair ; which may be 
represented by a man who gnashes his teeth, foams, 
and bites his lips ; his forehead wrinkled in gashes 
from top to bottom ; his eye-brows depressed over 
his eyes, closed (or nearly) next the nose ; the eye 
full of fire and blood ; the ball rolling, hid under 
the brows ; the eye-lids swelled, and livid ; the nos- 
trils enlarged, opened, drawn up, and greatly swelled ; 
the whole of the countenance livid, strongly marked, 
and deformed as the preceding passion. 

Such are the consequences of Anger ! who that 
considered them but would wish to be delivered from 
this savage tyrant ! to whom if any person be natu- 
rally a subject, yet restrains, moderates, vanquishes, 
and governs his passion ; I would congratulate him 
in the words of Wisdom, " Greater is he who ruleth 
his spirit, than he who taketh a city :" divest Alex- 
ander of the title great, and bestow it on him 
who thus conquers himself. 

We have already remarked, that many passions 
may be so combined and mingled with each other, 
as to require an expression compounded of both ; 
and sometimes even contrary sensations have been 
represented by artists with great success. Rubens, 
in his birth of Louis XIII. which forms one subject 
of his History of Mary of Medicis, in the Luxem- 
bourgh Gallery, has taken that opportunity to ex- 
press the sense of pain remaining from child-birth, 
and the joy with which the fond mother beholds her 



infant offspring. But it is very seldom such contra- 
dictory motions can be gracefully introduced : the 
more kindly combinations rather arise from passions 
whose natures are more nearly allied. 

I wish likewise to notice that as there is expression 
in character, there is also character in expression : 
the marks of every passion are not equally strong in 
every person, but they appear most conspicuous, 
when exhibited by a cast of countenance which agrees 
with, or is favourable, as it were, to, that particular 
emotion : for the features of a person who is usually 
tranquil and calm, will not suddenly assume Rage, or 
Fury : neither will the deeply marked visage of an 
irascible, and churlish disposition, express (at least 
to any advantage) the gentle appearance of Benevo- 
lence, Love, or Esteem. 

It is not my intention to repeat what I have al- 
ready offered on the article character ; I shall 
only observe, that many ideas connected with that 
article, may be accommodated to our present sub- 
ject. Children have expressions peculiar to them- 
selves, and not having learnt the art of concealing 
them (which is no small part of education in the opi- 
nion of some persons) they exhibit them very 
strongly. Education renders very different in differ- 
ent persons the manner of expressing the same pas- 
sion, unless where passion is too powerful for every re- 
straint ; there indeed all feel the same sensations, and 
Nature rules in spite of art : but, in familiar occur- 
rences, the joy of a gentleman is sufficiently distinct 
from the haw ! haw ! of a clown ; or the grief of a 



liberal mind, from the exclamatory interjections of 
the vulgar. 

There are some dispositions of mind which cannot 
be expressed without assistance, because they do not 
agitate the countenance so strongly as to be distin- 
guished from others. Avarice* though a violent 
inclination, yet requires that its object should inform 
us of its exertion ; for should a head exhibit Desire, 
of Fear, it would not therefore pass for a miser ; but 
introduce the " God of his idolatrv," and the sub- 
ject instantly speaks for itself. Ambition may ago- 
nize the person who shews no marks of it on his- 
countenance; and though Pride may be discerned 
in the self-importance of a figure, it is much more 
forcibly expressed by a coronet on the crutch, or the 
genealogical descent from William the Conque- 
ror, as Mr. Hogarth has shewn us. I must ac- 
knowledge, I consider that painter as one of the 
greatest adepts in the art of expression by accompani- 
ment-, nor do I know more original and significant 
examples than are to be found in his works ; 

Where more is meant than meets the Eye. 

But, there are some passions absolutely beyond 
the power of Art — for Art has its boundaries ; it may 
accomplish many and great things, but it is not 
therefore omnipotent. 

We are told by Pliny, that " Aristides, in 

painting a town taken by storm, represented an infant 

creeping to the breast of its mother, who, though 

expiring, yet expressed apprehension and fear lest 

2 the 


the child should suck her blood instead of milk :" 
this instance of expression (for as such we are consi- 
dering it) may vie with the greatest ; but " Timan- 
thes, says the same author, in his picture of the 
Sacrifice of Ithigenia, having exhausted every 
image of grief in the figures of the spectators, and 
above all in her uncle, threw a veil over the face of 
her father, whose sorrow he was unable to express ;" 
yet, by this stroke of ingenuity, he in fact expressed 
the anguish he designed ; for the feelings of this 
figure being wholly left to our imagination, pre- 
viously. excited by the distress of the others, we rise 
from those expressions to a mental conception of 
agony insupportable. 

I humbly conceive that our present subject (ex- 
pression) may be viewed yet differently^ and that 
the agitations of the mind, and by consequence of 
the person, might admit of some such scale, or de- 
grees, as the following : — This world, certainly, is 
not the place where we expect to meet with perfect 
happiness, yet, might we guess at it, perhaps we 
should find it composed pretty much of negatives ; 
not impelled by violent irritation, or by angry pas- 
sion ; not stimulated by ardent desire, or perplexed 
by tremulous fear ; not anxious or careful ; not su- 
percilious or abject : What would be its expression ? 
How would the countenance shew it ? — As some 
passions exceed the powers of art by exhibiting too 
great sensation, this eludes them by exhibiting too 
little; the seat of felicity is the mind; the counte- 
nance can only relate the matter negatively, by its 

Edit. 7. B b freedom 


freedom from the wrinkled brow, the rolling eye, 
the extended mouth ; and by exhibiting the benevo- 
lent aspect, and the placid smile. 

But as no man is totally void of either hope or 
fear, we might place a moderate degree of the former 
next to perfect tranquillity ; let hope be advanced to 
expectation, that expectation heightened by the pre- 
sence of the object desired ; let desire be perfected 
in possession ; possession issue in joy ; joy become 
rapture ; and we have, might I so say, the scale 
complete in its upper divisions : on the other hand, 
disturb tranquillity by apprehension, augment this 
sensation to affright, to terror ; unite with them 
anger, hatred, malice ; — disappoint these passions ; 
induce agony, rage, despair ; and the scale is too 
sadly perfect in its lower department. Should any 
of my auditors wish to trace the description of 
the passions in this order, it may have considerable 

If a moralist was descanting on this subject, he 
might remark, that happiness is only to be found in 
the medium state ; that there are many more pas- 
sions to be placed on the lower division of the scale 
than on the upper ; that our nature is more exposed 
to them ; and that the superior passions should be 
encouraged, cherished, and promoted, to balance 
the operations of the inferior. He might remark, 
that, to indulge any passion, will in time produce so 
strongly the marks of that passion in the countenance, 
as to disfigure the most lovely features ; he might 
therefore request his hearers to avoid whatever may 



injure their personal beauty, by disturbing their 
mental serenity ; and might point out the vanity of 
what is often (falsely) esteemed beauty, unless ac- 
companied by good sense, good manners, and good 
nature ; by a modest carriage, a cultivated under- 
standing, and a virtuous mind. 

B b 2 LIST 

188 [_LECT. VII. 








These Plates are explained at large in the Lec- 
ture : they are placed somewhat in the order hinted 
at, page 186. 

Tranquillity, Joy, Laughter. 

Tranquillity, Admiration, Astonishment, 

Dejection, Grief^ &c. 

Shewing the encreasing motions of the parts, cor- 
respondent to the encreasing strength of the passion. 



Plate 77. vaae 1S8. 

y '/u//t/// ///V\ 





ff/ff '!/'//! ////■/// 

'/// Frrif/tf 


;-,,,/, ,:■■■ 





J?) i/, pain «"■" ]> 

of body 
and- mind. 




f>,uH of Body 


Plate jo. pap 

I ' lo/i'/it 










mt -w ft 





Ladies and Gentlemen, 

VV HEN we look around among the almost innu- 
merable inhabitants of this lower Creation, we are 
surprized, and delighted, with the variety of powers 
bestowed among them, and with the happy skill by 
which those powers are adapted to the various situa- 
tions and circumstances of each class, and of every 
individual. Our great Author has given to some 
creatures, life, breath, motion, agility, swiftness ; 
to others he has imparted what appears to us as bare 
existence only. Some remain pendant to their native 
rocks, or buried in profound obscurity, abide in their 
submarine recesses : Others, 

V Sailing with supreme dominion, 
Through the azure deep of air" 

soar beyond our aching sight. Some, bound over 
the hills, and dart along the plains ; others, crawl 
their inch a-day, and in piteous moans seem to be- 


wail the necessity which impels them to such rapid 
motion. Equally various are the talents of creatures ; 
shall I call mental talents, those by which some ani- 
mals construct their dwellings, provide their food, 
regulate their social connexions, command, or obey 
the commands of others, with such regularity, dili- 
gence, and fidelity, as should instruct the sons of 
men ? "Go to the Ant, thou sluggard, consider her 
ways, and be wise :" go to the Bee, and learn indus- 
try ; to the Beaver, and observe his dam ; or let the 
birds of the air advise thee, whose dwellings are mo- 
dels of inventive ingenuity and foresight, whose pa- 
rental affections are examples for imitation ; " the 
Eagle exciting her nestlings, broodeth over her 
young, expandeth her wings, taketh them, and sup- 
porteth them on her pinions," training them up to 
celerity and courage. 

What then is Man ? whose superior faculties sub- 
due to his constant service not a few of his fellow- 
creatures, and occasionally manifest his dominion over 
every species of animals. By his strength does he 
vanquish the strong ; by his speed surpass the swift ? 
• — not in such competition appears our pre-emi- 
nence, but in the exertion of those mental, those spi- 
ritual endowments, whereby we investigate the Laws 
of Nature, and study the appointments of providen- 
tial wisdom ; Set. a Newton as an instance of what 
Humanity is capable. 

And is no trace of these faculties apparent in his 
figure ? have his mental abilities no harbinger in his 
person ? I confess myself inclined to assert, that evi- 
dent tokens of man's superior rank in the creation are 
1 not 


not only discernible, but conspicuous, in his appear- 
ance. As this has been strongly denied, and as the 
inquiry is not altogether foreign from our subject, I 
shall intreat your candor to a few observations. 

It is not denied, that, in some respects, the gene- 
ral idea evident in the construction of the human 
frame, and in that of animals, have a certain simila- 
rity : the trunk, the limbs, the extremities, are often 
composed, as it were, on the same plan ; and are no 
further varied than attitude or destination require : 
nevertheless, the parts are rarely similar in their con- 
formation ; and the features hardly e\ r er ; but if it be 
insisted, that the features sometimes approach resem- 
blance, to this I would answer, that, notwithstanding 
the resemblance of the features of some animals to 
those of mankind, there are yet the following perma- 
nent distinctions : 

I. The human Eyes are placed on a line which 
directly crosses the auditory nerve, while those of 
brutes are considerably lower down in their faces, 
and are more, or less, inclined toward the nose. 
Even the eyes of the Oran-otan (that nearest ap- 
proach in form to mankind) are so far below his ears, 
that the horizontal line of the eyes, which in a hu- 
man face passes through the top (or nearly) of the 
ears, passes through his ears at bottom, if it may not 
be said to avoid them totally. 

II. Man has power to elevate the pall of his 
eye (/'. e. of looking upward) without turning up his 
nose ; of which motion animals are incapable : their 
eye-balls may turn downward ; and this so much as 



to shew part of the white above the iris, but they 
cannot be raised so as to discover the white beneath. 

III. The eye-brows of animals never meet, 
and are always depressed at their extremities ; while 
those of man approach each other, and elevate them- 
selves next the nose. 

IV. The nostrils of animals hardly deserve the 
name of a nose, being little more than slits whereby 
they breathe and smell ; they are not prominent, like 
the nose in a human countenance. 

Speech is not indeed an external sign, yet speech 
may greatly contribute to a decision in our favor ; 
especially, since dissection has proved, that in those 
parts of the throat which should assist in the forma- 
tion of sounds, animals whose forms approach the 
human (anthropomorphous) have a certain orifice, or 
slit, which, by dividing the passage of the air, pre- 
vents articulate expression, by restraining the voice 
to a mere whistle. 

It must be owned, some birds articulate very di- 
stinctly, but 1 . This is not the effect of nature, but 
of education : 2. They rarely have any conception 
of the meaning of what they repeat, unless it refer to 
bodily wants, such as food, &c. 3. Birds are, in their 
forms, so unlike mankind, that their instances have 
no consequences : had animals possessed the same 
imitative powers, it might have been embarrassing, 
perhaps, but we know of no animal capable of speech; 
or of any exercise of the powers of reason ; though 
some things related of the elephant, and indeed of 
some other animals, are truly surprizing. 



' at the natural attitude of man is erect, and not 
prone, may be satisfactorily -inferred from the fol- 
lowing considerations: His neck is shorter than the 
same part in most animals, but not so cont rafted as 
that of the monkey kind ; therefore, while erect, 
his head (which may be termed his observatory) is so 
eic\ated by situation, that it is not necessary for him 
to extend his neck in order to look around him : be- 
side this advantage, his neck, while erect, is much 
better fitted to sustain in equipoise the very great 
weight of his head, (chiefly occasioned by the mag- 
nitude of his brain) which, were he prone, would 
undoubtedly impede his movements, by giving an 
injurious preponderance to that member. The same 
moderate proportion of neck, would prevent his 
mouth from being capable of gathering his food on 
the surface of the earth : I decline insisting on the 
manner in which the iwriehra of his neck, and of the 
spinal column in general, are locked together ; but 
this is demonstrative on inspection of the skeleton. 

The breast, or chest, as it is termed, of man, is 
much larger, and broader, more expanded, in pro- 
portion to his size, than that of animals. Where the 
neck unites with the trunk of the body, or chest, is 
placed the clavicula> or collar-bone, a bone found 
Only in man, and in such animals as are designed to 
sustain themselves erect without inconvenience ; 
that is to say, in certain species of the monkey tribe i 
nor has any animal, at the union of the trunk to the 
lower members, what we call Buttocks ; every ap- 
pearance of that kind being nothing more than, pro- 
perly speaking, their thighs. 

Edit. 7> - c c The 


The very great disproportion between the arms 
and legs of a man, (his fore-legs and hind-legs, sup* 
posing him a quadruped) is an invincible argument 
in favor of his perpendicular position : since, were 
he to straighten his legs when prone, his back parts 
would be much higher than his shoulders ; or should 
he bend at his knees, beside a very great inconve- 
nience to his foot, his whole leg would be not only 
useless, but burthensome. 

The human foot is extremely different from that 
of any animal whatever, even from that of a monkey; 
the foot of a monkey is rather a hand than a foot, the 
toes are long, and placed in the same manner as those 
of a hand, having the longest in the middle : nor 
has he any heel like the human ; nor has the sole of 
his foot equal dimensions to that of man ; whose sole 
is the largest of any creature's, and whose nails are 
not only smaller, but very different in construction, 
from those of animals. 

After all, what benefits can be derived from assi- 
milating the animal part of mankind to animals ? 
Will the character of a man, in consequence of these 
principles, become more wise r more benevolent ? 
more affectionate ? Is the knowledge of animals more 
extensive, their comprehension more enlarged ? their 
means of happiness superior ? or their enjoyments 
more exquisite ? Is it said, their health and strength 
is more vigorous and stable — -were it even granted, 
that in all corporeal powers we are their inferiors, 
(which yet admits of doubt) what is become of intel- 
lectual faculties ? Are mental endowments beneath 
regard ? or liberal accomplishments, the true ele- 


g.incies and delights of society, esteemed a mere 
blank ? Forbid it heaven ! — I confess, in the man- 
ners of some men there is a redundant proportion of 
brute, but that they are therefore more laudable, is 
not I believe generally understood ; on the contrary, 
were it possible to reclaim them by proper repre- 
sentation, it would be time well bestowed by any 
Metaphysician, ancient, or modern. 

Not to digress further from the immediate subject 
of this discourse, we proceed, according to our plan, 
to consider the proportions, and some of the proper- 
ties of the figure. 

I design, first, to notice the method of measuring 
the figure, which is by a scale either — of heads, — 
or of faces. We usually consider a figure as being, 
in height, seven heads and an half, or ten faces ; for, 
a head containing four measures of the nose, of 
which a face contains but three, it is evident, that 
ten faces, or seven and a half heads, are exactly 
equal in length. 

We formerly measured the head by a part of it- 
self, the nose ; we desire also to measure the figure 
by a part of itself : for this purpose some have se-> 
lected the foot, measured along the sole from the heel 
to the end of the toes ; and hence our ordinary mea-> 
sure of a foot had its rise : indeed, the natural stan- 
dard for measures of length, seems to be some part 
selected from the human figure : the cubit, if the 
cubit was originally ', (as is thought,) the length of the 
fore arm and hand extended, seems a clear instance ; 
and the idea of measuring by the foot seems to be 
no less natural and easy. 

- C c 2 Vitruvius 


Vitruvius says the ancients measured their fit 
gures by the length of the sole of the foot, giving 
them in height, six times that length : and hence the 
proverb ex pede Herculem ; ' you may know Hercules 
by his foot.' This proportion, however, is doubted 
of by some Artists ; it seems, nevertheless, to have 
been adopted in the Apollo Belvedere, and in the 
Venus of Medicis ; the most beautiful figures extant. 

Among modern Artists, however, the custom of 
proportioning a figure by its foot, has been super- 
seded, by that of considering the head, or face, 
as better suited to this purpose. Certainly, it should 
seem, as if this were the more obvious standard by 
which to form a scale ; but whether accuracy may 
have really gained by the change, is not so easy to 

We shall now notice some of those principles of 
proportion which seem to be adopted by Nature in 
the formation of the human frame, and which, from 
their regular occurrence, we may justly caW fixed. 

Some persons have observed the prevalence of the 
number three, in the composition of the human fi- 
gure ; the body, say they, has three parts ; the 
trunk, the thighs, the legs ; — the members have also 
three parts ; the lower members three — the thighs, 
the legs, the feet ; the upper members three — the up- 
per arm, the lower arm, the hand. In a well made 
man, the body and head conjointly, is to the thighs, 
legs, and feet, as the thighs are to the legs and feet ; 
or, as the upper arm is to the lower arm and hand. 

The navel is the proper center of the human 

frame, and, when a man holds up his arms above his 

2 head. 


head, is half way between his hands and feet: but 
when his arms hang down, the bottom of the trunk 
becomes the half distance, as appears from actual 
measurements after nature,byGERARD df.Laikesse, 

By a scale of faces the lines would fall as follows : 
(I.) From the crown of the head, to the bottom of 
the nose. (II.) To the pit between the cla-'iculx, 
or collar bones. (III.) To the bottom of the breast. 
(IV.) To the navel. (V.) To the bottom of the 
trunk. (VI. and VII.) To the upper part of the 
knee. The knee contains half a face. Two faces 
from the bottom of the knee to the ancle, and half 
a face from thence to the sole of the foot, complete 
the whole measure of ten faces. 

When a man extends his arms, he is between their 
extremities as broad as he is high ; which measures 
are thus reckoned : the hand, from tiie finger's end 
to the wrist, one face ; to the elbow, one face and 
half; to the joint of the shoulder, two faces ; to the 
pit between the clavicuL-e, one face ; making five 
faces and half: the same measures on the other side 
would make eleven faces, but in the extension of the 
limbs, the bones lose of their measures at the elbow 
and shoulder (together) half a face, on each side ; 
which reduces the whole to ten faces. 

The lengths of the limbs are usually taken from 
the hones, whose proportions being fixed, readily 
admit of measurement ; whereas the muscular parts' 
varying with every motion, continually change their 
appearance and their dimensions. Very trifling, 
therefore, are rules for the breadth of parts, except 
where united by bones : as, for instance, across the 

chest ; 


chest ; the clavlculce are always the length of one 
face each, consequently from shoulder to shoulder, 
is two faces, or one head and an half in breadth : 
which must necessarily be the distance in the most 
corpulent person, though a considerable thickness of 
flesh or fat may augment his muscular appearance ; 
while the absence of cross-bones in the lower region 
of the trunk, permits, there, an unlimited accession 
of fat. 

As timbers in a building, so are bones in the 
body ; they proportion, they unite, they sustain the 
whole fabric : beside these uses, bones afford for the 
attachment of the muscles proper spaces, from which 
arising, or in which terminating, they have certain 
fixed points, by whose resistance and solidity they 
are enabled to act. But, as beside solidity, flexibi- 
lity is requisite, the bones are divided according to 
their offices, whereby they become capable of being 
moved b} r muscular exertion. This remark, is ne- 
cessary, because by muscular exertion the proportion 
of several parts is apparently augmented, or dimi- 
nished. This appears, especially, in the arm, which, 
when both its parts (the upper and the fore arm) are 
in the same line, differs an eighth part of its mea- 
sure from the same arm when bent at the elbow : for 
the upper bone (the humerus) withdrawing out of 
the cavity wherein, when straight, it is inserted in the 
lower bone (the cubitus) adds the circummensura- 
tion of an angle formed by that motion, to the 
length of the arm : and this addition is greater or 
less, as the angle made by the bending of the elbow 
is more acute, or obtuse. 



The muscles are swelled by exertion ; by vio- 
lent exertion they are greatly swelled : therefore, 
lest they should at any time, by an unfortunate 
strain, burst, and be separated from the bone's, they 
are strongly bound at proper places, by bands ca- 
pable of resisting such violence. For instance, 
above the wrist, lest the muscles of the arm should 
recede from their places, is situated one of these 
broad bands (named fascia), which unites, and 
compresses, the course of the muscles in this part* 
These bands prevent any considerable increase of 
flesh, or of fat, where they are seated ; for which 
reason the joints of children are extremely small and 
slender, compared to their other parts ; the soft and 
juicy flesh being found between the junctures (as, 
between the wrist and the elbow), but never at those 
places which are to permit, or to contribute, mo- 
tion : neither in the fattest persons, is their increase 
at the joints proportionate to their increase else- 

Of the motions of the head and neck we have for- 
merly said something, as the neck is the center, and 
principal instance of graceful motion, we shall pro- 
bably have occasion further to consider its motion 
on a future subject ; our present design having re- 
ference chiefly to such motions as affect proportion. 

The Arm being a member of very general ser- 
vice, has an almost infinite variety of motions be- 
longing to it; originating either from the shoulder, 
or from the elbow. We shall briefly notice some of 
the principal. 



The furthest reach of the arm across the stomach, 
brings the elbow to the centre of the stomach ; so 
that the shoulders and elbow of that arm, form an 
equilateral triangle. 

When the arms are extended behind the back, the 
elbows are removed from each other just the length 
of the fore-arm and hand ; the two arms forming 
an exact square. 

That arm which is furthest removed from its natu- 
ral posture, will exert the greatest powers to recover 
its original station : for instance, to throw a dart, or 
3tone, the arm is drawn back to such a distance from 
the body, as to require a rapid, and even violent, 
assisting motion in the other parts : as you know, 
the arrow from a bow, is projected with a celerity 
correspondent to the strength exerted by the bow- 
string to recover its place. 

A person pointing to an object not very distant^ 
does not extend his arm so far from his body as 
when he points to a remote object ; then must the 
arm be stretched out from his body : the face of 
him who points, being always directed towards the 
person for whose advantage that action is intended. 

The Wrist, becomes smaller when the hand is- 
shut, and enlarged as the hand is opened : but this 
motion has a directly contrary effect on the arm ; 
the reason is, that the muscles, which on opening 
the hand are stretched out, and extended, are in 
clenching the hand swelled, and increased in bulk, 
whereby the whole arm is augmented. 

The joints of the Fingers enlarge themselves- 
en all sides when bent, and decrease when straight- 


ened, whether more or less. The same effect attends 
the same motions of the Toes. 

The motions of the Leg are not near so numerous 
as those of the arm : the chief use of this member be- 
ing either as a support to the body, or as the instru- 
ment of walking, its muscles are much stronger than 
those of the arm, and their movements more direct, 
and prolonged ; for, to turn outwards, or inwards, 
the foot, or the leg, requires a motion whose origin 
is in the upper parts of the thigh. The thigh-bone 
is the largest and strongest in the body; and by means 
of the patella, or knee-pan, is so firmly connected 
with the bone of the leg, that they can scarce be dis- 
located while in a strait direction. There have been 
persons who have withstood the efforts of several 
horses to drag them (one of which worthies is im- 
mortalized on a sign-post in Wapping), the manage- 
ment of which feat, is only to regulate the line of 
the force exerted against the bones of the thigh and 
leg, for should that line vary, though but little, 
from its true direction, the strength so much boasted 
of sinks into weakness. 

Should a machine for flying ever be constructed 
(who knows how far human invention may proceed ?) 
it must be worked by the muscles of the thigh and 
leg : were those of the arm strong enough to exert 
the requisite force, yet would they quickly become 
weary ; whereas those of the legs, we know by ex- 
perience, can sustain great fatigue. 

Of all the members of the body whose junctures 
are capable of being bent, the Knee alone is di- 

Edit. 7. D d minished 


minished in bending, and augmented by being 

The enlargement or diminution of the juncture 
of the Foot, is only seen on the inside ; it increases 
when its angle is acute, and decreases as that angle 
becomes more obtuse. 

The shoulders, neck, and reins, are more variable 
than any other junctures of the body : and their 
motions are more numerous and diversified. 

We remark, in general, that when one side of a 
member, or of a figure, is diminished, the other 
side is correspondently enlarged. 

A principal care in designing figures, should be, 
to set the head well on the shoulders, the trunk well 
on the haunches, and the haunches and shoulder* 
well on the feet. 

We have now obtained some general idea of the 
proportions of the human figure ; of the method of 
measuring those proportions ; and of the variations 
to which they are subjected by the numerous motions 
to which t\\& members are respectively adapted : 
we shall see, hereafter, that there are yet other power- 
ful principles which greatly diversify proportion ; 
but what has been said is, I think, sufficient to pre- 
vent the expectation of applying mathemaiicfll exact- 
ness either to the parts, or to the whole. ~\ Vhether 
such exactness be impossible, I shall not determine ; 
became there are those who think it probable the 
ancient Artists had reduced to fixed dimensions, all 
the proportions of the figure, as well small as large, 
and perhaps the circumferences also : this appears, 
say they, from a conformity of measures, though 



diversity of excellence, among the antique figures 
remaining. If this supposition be taken in a gene- 
ral sense, it may, perhaps, be admitted ; but as at- 
titudes differ, the apparent dimensions of members 
differ also ; and as attitudes are infinite — if the sup- 
position be absolutely taken, the series of measures 
must be infinite also — in which case it is certainly 

Not meaning to adopt the ■precision of measure- 
ment, but merely its general application, I shall in- 
troduce a few additional hints arising from this sub- 
ject, arranging them, for the sake of perspicuity, un- 
der two principles : Proportion, and Beauty : — 
these, though they ought always to be united in 
practice, yet are distinct in principle ; and either 
separately, is at best imperfect, if not nugatory. 

Proportion refers to length, breadth, thickness, 
&c. of parts. If a part be of the just length, yet 
too thick, or too thin, proportion suffers : and pro- 
portion suffers equally, if a part be of a just thick- 
ness, or thinness, but of an improper length. 

Beauty has respect to form : now one part of a 
figure may exhibit a beautiful form, and yet that figure 
may be not well proportioned throughout : for in- 
stance, a man may have a handsome leg, or arm, 
considered in itself; but the other parts of his figure 
may not equal this -part in beauty ; or, this part may 
not be accurately proportioned to the rest of the 
figure : it may be too long or too short, while in it- 
self it is beautiful. 

As a figure may be partially beautiful, without 

being universally well proportioned ; sq may a figure 

Dd2 be 


be generally well proportioned, without being beau- 
tiful in all its parts, and consequently not in the. 
whole. It is true, there can be no Beauty without 
proportion ; but the customary proportions which 
may be observed, even in nature, are not always 
beautiful, to the degree that Art calls beauty. 

According to the effect of constitution, passions, 
disease (though perhaps latent), of food, exercise, 
and manner of living, the parts of the figure are 
varied from what they might be : it is notorious, that 
certain medicines affect particularly certain parts of 
the body ; and food may be regarded, in this case, 
as a kind of medicine : strong liquors have the same 
effect : now all these, and other causes, introduce 
deformity, either — by excess : i. e. the swelling, or 
protuberance, of the parts ; or by — diminution, /'. e. 
their shrinking, and contraction. 

Certainly among the causes which contribute to 
the variation of the human figure, the influence of 
climate is very considerable : this we have formerly 
remarked ; and it might be confirmed, if requisite, 
by comparing the natives of any two distant coun- 
tries : we may, however, reasonably conclude, that 
this effect: should follow, from the diversity of sea- 
sons they experience, from the changes of heat, 
cold, rain, dry weather, lowland moisture, and 
mountain keenness, to which, in infinite diversity, 
the human race is subject. 

Now Beauty should be conceived of, as presenting 
no trace of any unfavourable circumstance, but the 
simple exemplar of pure and happy nature : it fol- 
lows, that, no man living can pretend to this Beauty, 



because no man living is exempt from every cause 
of variation which affects Beauty. 

To render this idea of Beauty more sensible, let 
us contrast it by its opposites. Suppose a figure as 
swelled all over, and requiring contraction : (this is 
one kind of deformity) : from this figure then, to re- 
duce it to Beauty, we must gradually pare off so much 
as may diminish it to a moderate size : here begins 
an approach towards Beauty ; and the nearer we ap- 
proach towards the precision of Beauty, the greater 
delicacy is required in our treatment of the parts. 
At first, a coarse hand and a rough tool, may be 
indulged; but at last, the utmost skill and judgment 
will be fully employed ; for if we stop short of taking 
away the precise quantity, or if we take away beyond 
that precise quantity, by either, Beauty is injured. 

Consider now the reverse of this supposition : 
imagine a lean, withered, shrunk, figure, to which 
it is necessary to fill up the parts : at first, this 
may be attempted pretty rapidly ; but, as it ap- 
proaches what it ought to be, much nicety of hand 
is required to add precisely enough, or to prevent the 
additions from exceeding the just limits of Beauty. 

From these representations it appears, that, though 
all persons cannot agree in their ideas of Beauty, yet 
all can agree to dislike deformity ; and all can agree 
in their judgment up to a certain distance from de- 
formity ; for the progress which each would recom- 
mend, all would consider as advancing towards Beauty. 

We shall not add to what we have said of Propor- 
tion ; but as the subject of Beauty is intimately con- 
nected with the human figure, we snail bestow a 
1 thought 


thought, or two, on its general forms, as it appears 
in the various parts. 

We ought first to premise, that Beauty varies with 
varying life ; to complete our idea of Beauty, there- 
fore, we must not only select the most beautiful 
character, but the most beautiful parts of that cha- 
racter, from among the most beautiful individuals, 
in the most beautiful time of life, combining all 
these beauties into one exquisite form,, adorned by 
the most graceful action. The difficulty of this un- 
dertaking appears from the rarity of success, no less 
than from this statement of it's principles. I fear we 
must take our ideas somewhat lower ; but we are not 
therefore bound to forego them entirely. 

In speaking of the beauty of parts, we naturally 
begin with the head: — the profile, especially, shews 
the beauty of lines : full and large lines consti- 
tute grandeur ; flowing and light lines compose 

The first striking feature in a profile is, the Nose, 
whose lines ought to be simple and gentle : any 
strong inflexion of the nose is unbeautiful ; if the 
nose joins the forehead by any depth, it is so far not 
beautiful : but if by a small sinking, it is graceful. 

The Forehead is a considerable feature in a 
beautiful head ; but, perhaps, is seen to most ad- 
vantage in front : if too high, it may be partly con- 
cealed by the flowing of the hair ; but if too low, 
the defect is not so easily remedied. 

The Eyes are extremely important in regard to 
Beauty : moderately large eyes are preferable to small 
ones. Eyes if too large, are apt to stare ; modesty 



may somewhat remedy this ; but if too small, they 
are beyond assistance. 

The Eye-lids are naturally flexible; their mo- 
tion is, as it were, a gliding ; consequently a stiff line 
is ill applied to them : an easy, tender, smooth line, 
(and neither too open, nor too shut) suits this feature. 

The Eye-brows assist, and, as it were, complete 
the beauty of the Eyes* they should possess an 
agreeable arch ; the hairs which adorn them should 
be fine ; and certainly, the brows should be distinct 
from each other, and not united, notwithstanding 
the poetical authority of Theocritus, or any other 
bard, whose mistress might happen to be thus dis- 

The Mouth may dispute with the Eyes for 
beauty: its form is made to produce a full effecT: ; 
the upper lip is narrower than the under lip, which 
is somewhat fuller : this contributes to the pleasin^ 
rounding of the chin. The Mouth not altogether* 
closed, has an agreeable effeft in picture. As to 
the effecl of the teeth, as in laughing, & c . it is not 
always happy; and was seldom expressed by the 
Ancients, who rarely chose to open the Mouth be- 
yond a cautious moderation. 

The Chin has often, in nature, a dimple in the 
middle of it: which is, frequently, thought very 
pleasing; it is, however, remarkable, that the an- 
cient artists rather preferred a full, round, rising, 
chin, without this division of its surface : which cer- 
tainly in some degree breaks the uniformity of its 
figure, and of the light which it refle&s. The t r e?m$ 
of Medicis, however, has this dimple ; but rather as 



contributing to softness of expression, rather as a 
delicacy, than as a part of superior beauty. " This," 
says Varro, " is an ornament impressed by the 
finger of love ;" and this he might have said of any 
other dimple. 

The Ears are a feature of some difficulty to ma- 
nage well ; they have, undoubtedly, their beauty, 
when rather plump, and rounded ; but they are often 
concealed, at least in part, by the hair, and, so far as 
I can judge, without any loss of beauty to the coun- 
tenance in general. It should appear as if they are 
least pleasing when too much enlarged : to keep them 
rather within their proper limits in respect to size, 
may therefore, perhaps, be thought most adviseable. 
The Hair of the head is certainly a beautiful or- 
nament, when it takes around the face a gently glid- 
ing shape, free from angles, or sharp turnings ; not 
ending suddenly, or harshly : by such a form it con- 
tributes very much to an elegant termination of the 
composition of a face. As to the various combina- 
tions of which it is capable, or to which it has sub- 
mitted, as an article of dress, they need no illustra- 
tion here. 

As the head is the chieJf seat of beauty, and is in 
our country the part most generally exposed, we are 
best capable of forming a judgment respecting it ; a 
few words will contain all we shall offer on the beauty 
of the other parts of the figure, without meaning to 
deny that those parts also, are capable of beauty to 
any supposable degree. 

The Breast of the stronger sex is beautiful, if it 
be bold, open, clear, and broad ; expressing manly 



vigour, and alacrity : the bosom of the fair sex, is 
less- ample, and less square, is more rounded in its 
general form, and more elevated, though yet but 
gently. To the Shoulders may be applied much 
the same idea. » 

The Arm and the Leg are- capable of great 
beauty : -in the arm this is very much assisted by 
graceful action : and it must be owned, the elegance 
of a well turned arm, is very impressive, Gliding 
lines have here their full power. 

The Knee is a joint very difficult to manage in 
respect of beauty : the number of parts which are 
here assembled, embarrass the general effect ; if they 
are distinctly treated, they suffer as a whole ; if they 
are slurred (as musicians speak) they seem to contra- 
vene the intention of Nature, that is strength. As 
this, part is but little exposed among us, we are de- 
prived of those opportunities of studying it which 
warmer climates afford, and consequently we rarely 
see it beautifully represented. 

Beauty of form shews itself most explicitly in the 
extremities of the figure, the hands, and the feet. 

The beauty of the Hand consists in a pleasing, 
moderate, plumpness, without hardness of any kind; 
the fingers gradually lessening, with an agreeable 
easy diminution, the nails not very long, or power- 
fully marked ; I think, artists in general are too apt, 
through desire of delicacy, to represent the ringers 
as too thin : they rather resemble sticks, than fingers : 
but, by this remark, I do not mean to recommend' 
clumsiness. - . 

Edit. 7. E e The 


The custom of wearing shoes, while it deprives 
the artist of an opportunity of studying a beautiful 
Foot, conceals the deformity which is but too general 
among us : anciently, handsome toes were as much 
esteemed as handsome fingers ; but, now, where shall 
we find them ?- The fact is, that -even the bones of the 
foot are compressed and displaced by the bandages 
we wear, and we cannot even rind a skeleton to be 
mounted for a surgeon, which ha3 the bones of the 
toes, &c. placed as they ought to be : whether this 
be an improvement on Nature, I submit to those 
whom it may concern. 

There is in the human mind, a principle, which 
refers to self zv try observation made on certain qua- 
lities ; and among these, the quality of external form 
may be regarded as occupying a principal place. Is 
it because the mind, conscious of superiority, is jea- 
lous for the reputation and character of its dwelling ? 
is it because, though it finds itself comfortable and 
easy in a thatched cottage, it beholds with emotion 
the palaces of others ? or, is it because praise ap- 
pears to us so great a blessing, that, while it circu- 
lates around us, we grudge if we receive- not our 
share ? but wherefore should external form expect 
praise ? Is it in our power to obtain ? No ; it is 
bestowed : Is it complete in any ? Nature is not so 
partial : Is it wholly with-held from any ? Nature is 
not so unjust. If, then, Nature has imparted to 
each a portion, and each still wishes, for more, is 
there no means of augmenting that portion ? Is it not 
capable of improvement ? Surely, it is. 

1 Cosmetics 


Cosmetics and beautifiers have been long in vogue; 
their little success might justify their disuse : yet 
there is a cosmetic, an essence, highly recommended 
as exalting ordinary features above beauty itself: 
which gives to the eye the most lively sparkle ! to 
the cheeks the sweetest glow ! It is a kind of per- 
fume whose fragrance diffuses itself from the bosom, 
(where it is worn), and, pervading every limb, kindly 
animates the whole figure. When very highly rec- 
tified, it is proof against accidents, and, if carefully 
preserved, (which is well worth while) will often re- 
cover from dangerous distempers. It is even said, 
further, that the very tincture of it is not to be 
despised, that beauty itself is improved by it ; and 
indeed is disgusting without it : — while those 
who possess it, though perhaps at first sight appearing 
little likely, yet on further acquaintance, by its in- 
fluence, excite attachments more general, more ho- 
norable, and more durable, than ever did the most 
exquisite form. This is not offered as a new dis- 
covery ; old Homer knew it, and has mentioned 
it; blind as he was, he was not blind to this; he 
tells us, the very queen of heaven, conscious of her 
beauty and majesty, was conscious too how indispen- 
sable was this essence ; this she condescended to bor- 
row, and this she bound around her in — the magic 
cestus of Venus. 

E e 2 PRO- 




The auAKTER parts of the figure are at ' 

I. The arm pits. 

II. Th ? bottom of the trunk. 

III. The knees. 

IV. The sole of 'the foot. 

The sole of the foot is one-sixth part of the height of the 
figure ; but this measure is generally thought too long. 

The longest toe is one nose long. 

The hand is the length of one face, 

Twice the breadth of the hand gives its' length. 

The breadthof the hand is equal to that of-the foot. 

The thumb is one nose in length. 

The hand being .capable of an almost infinite multitude of 
motions, requires much observation to represent it justly; since 
in every attitude some part or other will vary from its given di- 
mensions, by being foreshortened. 

It is a good rule, " be careful not to make hands too large, 
por their fingers too long." 

The foot is by no means so facile in its movements as the 
hand, nor capable of so great variety of attitudes. 

As these extremities are seldom, or never, hid by any figure, 
in any action, they require the greater attention and observation 
in nature : their perpetual and infinitely varying movement, pre- 
cludes the possibility of measures for their breadth, since the 
least change from the original attitude, would totally derange 
such measures, though never so judicious. 

These measures may suffice for imparting a general idea of the 
proportionate dimensions df these parts ; the smaller divisions, such 
as the knuckles, and joints of the fingers, those of the toes, the 
length of the nails, &c. are too obviqus to need insertion. 









According to Gerard de Lairesse, the following are the dis- 
tances of the parts of a figure, by actual measurement. 

To the <. 


From the sole D, to the ancle joint 
Thence to the inward calf of the leg 
routward ditto 

bottom of the knee 

knee pan 

upper part of the knee 

thigh - 

To B. the middle of the body 
["navel - 

hip - 

pit of the stomach 


shoulder - 

pit of the neck 

chin - 

nose - 

eyes - 

forehead - 

hair - 

crown of the head 

To the 

Man. Worn, 
parts 2 li 

2 - 

2 - 

1 - 
1 - 
1 - 










[lect. VIII. 


parts 4| 


'foot is long 

joint . v - 

calf of the leg 
J under part of the knee 
upper part of the knee 
thigh - 

end of the buttocks 

At the navel 

„, fhip 

xn I pit of the stomach 

Over the arm-pit 

„,, f shoulder 

lhe \ pit of the neck 

The head is square 




foot next to the outward ancle, parts 1 
foot joint - 

inward calf of the leg 
_ outward calf - 
The ^ under part of the knee 
upper part of the knee 
thigh - . - 
end of the buttock - 
middle - - - - 

At the navel 

T , fhip - 

1 1 pit of the stomach 

Over the arm-pits 

The -l uit of the stomach 


J pit of 


Under the nose 
Over the eyes 

The ff° rehead 

X beginning of the hair 

1 - 


2 - 
2 - 
2 - 
6 - 
5 - 
8 - 
2 - 





— 1 

— H 

— 2 
— 2 
~ 2 T 


-7 T 

— 4£ 

-5 T 





LECT. VIII.} 215 


This Plate shews the variations produced by their 
movements : in which it appears that the arm when 
straight, measures less in length from A. to B. fig. 1. 
than it does when partly bent, by the distance C. D. 
fig. 2. and that the distance is greatly encreased by 
the further bending C. D. in fig. 3. 

Fig. 4. and 5. shew, that the motion of the foot 
affects the juncture of the foot, enlarging it when 
acute as D. E. F. and lessening it when obtuse, as 
A. B. C. The effect of motion on the knee appears 
to be similar to that of the elbow, as G. H. 

ARMS, measured from the Antique. 

LEGS, measured from the Antique. 



PLATE LXXXVI. HANDS, parts of the figure. 

PLATE LXXXVII. ARMS, parts of the figure. 

PLATE LXXX VIII. HANDS, parts of the figure. 

PLATE LXXXIX. FEET, parts of the figure. 


216 [lect. vnr, 

PLATE XC. FEET, parts of the figure. 

PLATE XCI. FEET, parts of the figure. . 

PLATE XCII. LEGS, outlines, parts of the figure. 

PLATE XCIIL LEGS, finished, parts of the 



PARTS of a FIGURE of VENUS, measured from 
the Antique. 

ANTINOUS, measured from the Antique. 


The same Figure : back View ; measured. 



Supposed by the Author of Antinous. 


ANTIQUE BOY; Whole Length, measured from 

the Antique. 


Plata 8o,peuie em 


Proportions of the Figure: from actual Ainitwrmrtit. 

PlottSl />.'.</<' 

ssaSK^ c 



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Mate Sz , page -v; 




s/kffi '4.. 


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y i 


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Childrens Feet. 


/'/(///* Si/paga zyr. 


•vrv-.'^^/a : 

if hildrens Hands. 

PlaieSOpa n$ 








Plated] pa •/; 

Plate 88, Tage 715. 


■ ,..".-".■; 





Parts of the Figure 

Piute ffp, Page 21$ 

Parts <>f the figure 

J i /utt' go, page 21S. 

( / 



Parts of the Figure. 

Pliih-oi, page ■■!'■'. 

Parts of the Figure 

Plate q2,paye 216. 


Pllltf 1)1 />(!</{• il(< 

Parts of the Figure 





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y//r Intjaye. 

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measured frcnn t7it ^Jntiytu 

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m/xisured from the^nttxfue 


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^T 4A9 m 

^42VT J JV O US. 
measured from ths .lnUque 

Plats $ff /''';'• v " 

,—,'-'*• S~" 

a m 



10 rn '\ 

if 1 \ 

" 4A 
An t i if ou s. 

measured from. theAntigtw 

Supposed fry tfie Author oi -'_ httinviut 

Plate i<»> pit ;-ti( ; . 

— i!„L\ ^jgSit/IL L ._ i_ 

\ ) ' ■ \\ /: 

^Atfm'l J) 

" VZ -~— — r_ ■'.' Z\ 

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S/l f 


Siqvpoje<1 by thr .Urthor <->/'. Inthions. 


. ■■■■ y i ■-,; 


Plate io2 />",'/<■ ■:/(■ 

From the. Antiffit 




Ladies and Gentlemen, 

E propose now to investigate some of uit 
principles which impart to the human figure those 
distinctions which are understood by the term Cha- 
racter. I have no need, at this time, to explain 
the term, because, so far as it relates to the counte- 
nance, we have pretty largely attended to character 
at a former opportunity ; as many of the remarks 
then offered are equally applicable to the -figure, it 
is my present design, and I presume it will be most 
agreeable to my auditors, only to offer such additional 
observations, as are most intimately connected with 
our subject, which is, the character of the figure. 

If the proportions of the figure were always the 
same, there would be no occasion to propose any 
division of character as relating to different periods 
of life, since children would then be men and wo- 
men, differing only in stature. I remember, when 
I visited Paris, I was at first not a little embarrassed 
at a deceptive metamorphosis of this kind ; the boys 
were so disfigured by bags to their hair, and swords 

Edit. 7. F f by 


by their sides ; the girls in hoops, sacques, and tetes, 
that, after my utmost researches, I gave up the ex- 
pectation of finding children in that city: at the 
same time, congratulating my native land, that the 
sweet simplicity of childhood, the engaging attrac- 
tions of youth, were neither absentees, nor rarities, 
there. I may therefore frankly appeal to your own 
observations, Ladies and Gentlemen, for the 
propriety of my remarks on this period of life. 

As childhood has a constant tendency toward 
maturity, it is necessary, that it should be furnished 
with sufficient moisture, and spirits, to recruit their 
perpetual consumption. Children are therefore fat- 
ter, and more plump in their members, than persons 
of mature! years ; whose increase having fed, as it 
were, on their stock of juices, has exhausted the su- 
perfluity of their youthful state. In fact, the pro- 
gress of human life is from moist to dry ; from 
superabundant spirit, activity, and glee, to solidity 
and firmness, succeeded by rigidity and weakness. 
Accordingly, children are, in the length of their 
members, only half the distances of maturity, but 
in the thickness of their muscular measures they 
are much more than, proportionate. Instead of being 
the distance of two faces from the shoulder to the 
elbow, they are only one; the same across- the 
shoulders, and in the lee;3. 

We have formerly noted, that a man measures in 
height seven and a half heads, or ten faces ; but ob- 
serve, that, infants measure o\\\jjk'c faces, and chil- 
dren five heads in height : as they advance in stature 
they approach nearer to the proportions of maturity. 
l As 


As those who grow fastest not only become taller than 
others, but likewise more speedily exhaust their ful- 
ness of flesh, they seem to grow swifter than they 
really do ; their thinness making their proportions 
seem longer than they otherwise would appear. 

The innocence, the simplicity, the endearments 
of childhood, have given occasion to artists to intro- 
duce a very numerous family of characters, which 
children contribute to express ; that powerful deity, 
Cupid, stands at their head, and with his extensive 
retinue of loves, makes a conspicuous figure. These 
are extremely useful to painters, and to poets, on 
sundry occasions, and serve to indicate, or to explain, 
their ideas, where mortal men are forbidden to ap- 
pear. So far as mere allegory, or allusion t 
mythology, &c. requires them, I accept th 
vices ; but, I by no means approve o( their introduc- 
tion in scripture subjects, as if they were cherubim ; 
for the cherubim were not infants heads with 
wings at the neck (as usual in a painter's heaven), but 
hieroglyphical compositions of various animals, 
united, and cloathed with wings ; with two covering 
their faces, with two others covering from their hips 
downward, and with two flying. 

I shall remark here, though somewhat before its 
place, on the figures of axgelic eeixgs, that they 
should have most elegant and graceful proportions, 
such as appear best fitted for speed, and celerity. 
Our idea of them is, that they are spirits assuming a 
visible form to render the services they have in com- 
mand : The wings w r e usually give them, ex 
their rapidity, their more than human speed, .. 

F f 2 at 


at the same time they distinguish them : but it seems 
evident by every relation of their appearances, that 
they assumed completely the human form, and were 
not discovered by those to whom they were sent, till 
the purposes of their mission were accomplished, and 
themselves revealed the secret. 

One can hardly say, that, by association of ideas, — 
after angels come devils ! yet as, by arranging toge- 
ther personages of contrary characters, the contrast 
may render more sensible the peculiarities of each, 
we shall here advert to some of those less amiable 
forms, whose introduction is sometimes absolutely 
necessary, to explain the subject of a picture, its 
occasion, or its consequences. 

Satan, as having been an angel of light, should 
be supposed to retain, notwithstanding his fall, many 
of those elegancies of person, and manners, which 
we attribute to angels : the ideas of malignity, 
cruelty, envy, fraud and rebellion, which compose 
the moral character of this infernal foe, should be 
combined with more beauty of figure than is usual. 
Is it a thing utterly unheard of among mankind, that 
a fair face should shroud a false heart ? that an 
agreeable external appearance should be contradicted 
by internal depravity ? and if this occurs among 
mankind, why may not the idea be tolerated, when 
transferred to other natures ? 

But let me state this clearly : the historic character 
Satan may be treated differently from the vulgar 
character the devil : and while we leave to the vulgar 
their devil, or even on vulgar subjects conform to 
vulvar conceptions we ought, I think, where the 



elevated style of history, as employed on superior 
subjects, admits, or rather requires, to depart from 
that uncouth representation usually given to this 
character, and to treat him with more dignity, though 
fallen, than has commonly been his portion. Let 
me not be thought too kind to Satan ; yet, might 
J quote the proverb, I should apply it to express 
my opinion, that artists have rarely " given the 
devil his clue." 

It is sometimes necessary, in picture, to repre- 
sent ideal personages of another class ; such as sup- 
posed demons of air, earth, or water, who, when 
raging in storms, tempests, earthquakes, &c. require 
a distinction of character correspondent to their 
offices, and to the employments respectively assigned 
them. The same may be said of the passions of the 
mind, when introduced, and of diseases of the body. 
If an artist has to represent the figure of pestilence, 
for instance, the character of this ideal personage 
should conform in some degree to the effects pro- 
duced by his influence ; if the disorder produce pale- 
ness, leanness, debility, some indication of these 
should appear in the agent who directs, promotes, 
and diffuses .the disorder ; whereby the nature, or 
cause, of the disorder, may be suggested to the eye 
of the spectator, that the subject may be understood 
without a comment. 

The same principle applies to representation of 
the passions ; the effect they produce on the mind is 
usually accompanied by some correspondent effect 
on the body : this effect on the body, then, must 
be the mean employed by art to indicate what passes 



in the mind ; and must be introduced for that pur- 
pose, in compositions which require such accompa- 

There are two subjects which, rarely, are well 
characterized by artists ; and indeed, to characterize 
them well, it must be admitted, is very difficult. I 
mean Time, and Death. 

Time has been so long running his course, that 
now he is certainly old, and must be represented as 
an old man ; yet an old man without decrepitude, 
without weariness, without that inertia, which ac- 
companies human age : for, does not Time still run 
his course, as quickly, as ever ? and still urge, with 
unabated rapidity, his unwearied flight ? This, then, 
requires signs of strength, of vigour, of ability, 
which seem contradictory to what is just remarked of 
his age : now, in one, or other, of these respects, 
artists often err ; they represent a figure too young 
for old Time, if they attend to the idea of vigour ; 
too feeble for ever-moving Time, if they attend to 
iiis age, and past duration. Perhaps this subject 
should be treated on somewhat new ideas : what for- 
bids our regarding Time to come — as an infant, — or a 
child, — or a youth (according to its supposed distance 
from us) ; Time present — as an adolescent, or of 
mature age ; Time past — as declined into imbecility, 
expressed by the tokens of age, and weakness ? and, 
indeed, it ought to be remembered, that, although 
the employment of Time has long been allegorized by 
his scythe and his hour-glass, yet destruction is not 
his only occupation : though he sweep away part of 
the human race, yet another part he ushers into 

existence : 


existence ; and he is no less active in renewing the 
generations which are to succeed, than in withdraw- 
ing those who are no longer to continue. Nor is this 
confined to the human race : our joys, our sorrows, 
events prosperous or adverse, what we expect with 
eagerness, what we dread with anguish, these are all 
under the conduct: of Time : are not these ideas too 
dissimilar in their natures to be adequately represented 
by one figure, with one kind of distinguishing insig- 
nia only ? 

Death is not thus impartially employed ; he in- 
troduces none to supply the vacancy occasioned by 
the absence of those he removes ; he carries off, but 
he brings none in return. Death, therefore, may be 
justly symbolized by Insignia restrained to his de- 
vastating office. It is usual to personify Death by a 
skeleton ; but the propriety of this image may, I 
think, be doubted. A skeleton lias not those parts 
which are necessary to the performance of any bodily 
action ; an attive skeleton is, therefore, a contradic- 
tion : and as to a figure extremely thin and meagre, 
covered merely, as it were, by a membrane, (which is 
sometimes substituted) I certainly cannot recommend 
it as picturesque ; for surely this is hideous : in every 
view, then, this figure has its difficulties ; whick 
render a better emblem highly desirable. 

To return to the sons of men : as adolescence 
and youth succeed to childhood, the measures of 
the figure continue approaching to those of matu- 
rity : of these measures we have spoken as they are 
generally applicable, but as every person is not ex- 
actly alike, personal variations must be referred, 
principally, to natural character. 



Here I entreat the attention of my auditors to their 
own recollection, and observation ; for character be-^ 
ing continually before us, we are accustomed to judge 
for ourselves with sufficient certainty. Whenever 
we have seen bending beneath the weight of his bur- 
den, a slim spindle-shanks, whose form scarce indi- 
cated strength enough to support his knot, we have 
felt that such a figure is equally out of charaffer for 
a porter, as it is to employ a Kercules in measuring 
a yard of gauze. 

As character is most conspicuous at maturity, we 
shall here pay attention to those of its branches, 
which, we before observed, might be referred to the 
sexes, to the natural inclinations, and to the 
acquired habits of mankind. 

The distinct character of form in the Sexes is 
sufficiently apparent, and perfectly correspondent to 
the general bias of their minds : in the female sex, 
we observe, and permit without complaint, an earlier 
and more lively sense of danger, because the female 
form is less calculated for resistance and combat : 
whereas, similar alarms would offend us in a man, 
whose bolder nature is supported by superior strength. 
On the same principle, the graces of an elegant wo- 
man, are inconsistent with the athletic figure of a 
man. When a man assumes the softness and deli- 
cacy which belong to the other sex, he contradicts 
the course of nature, and becomes a just object of 
ridicule ; as when a woman acts the hero, or be- 
comes a good fellow, she has quitted her sphere, lost 
iier attractions, and forgotten her very self., Each 
sex has employments and duties proper to it, nor is 



any thing more satisfactory to a virtuous mind, than 
to see them discharged with readiness and pleasure ; 
— except the consciousness of being so engaged. 

Whatever absurdities displease us in real life, 
should be avoided in representation : as, on the con- 
trary, whatever is esteemed excellent, or honourable, 
especially, if characteristically excellent, or honour- 
able, should be the object: of an Artist's imitation. 

Female figures should not only be characterized 
by a general grace, but likewise by the delicacy of 
the particular parts. The neck of a lady is very 
different from that of a man ; being more slender, 
the muscles less conspicuous, the cavities between 
them less sensible, and in its turns more graceful. 

The muscles of a man's arm are bold, and promi- 
nent ; the more tendonous parts, such as the wrist, 
and back of the hand, shew evidently, as it were, 
the nature of their component parts, even the veins 
appear swelled and large : compare with these the 
same parts in the other sex, and we find a plump- 
ness, a roundness, almost an evenness throughout the 
whole. None of us (Gentlemen) pretend to equal 
the slender wrists, the delicate hands, the flexible 
and taper fingers of our fair associates ; we yield to 
them beauty, elegance, grace, happy to think these 
too become our own, when their hearts bestow their 
hands ! 

To resume our proposed order ; the same causes 
which inscribe the mental characters of mankind on 
their faces, contribute to render their figures expres- 
sive of natural dispositions, some are fat, 
others lean ; some heavy, others light ; some tall, 

Edit. 7. G g others 


others short ; and by this diversity, to the very great 
and general advantage of mankind, one person is 
distinguished from another. The manner and air of 
those with whom we are intimate, is so strongly im- 
pressed on our minds, that we can scarce mistake 
them even in a crowd : if there be nothing pecu- 
liarly striking in their gait, there is yet such a gene- 
ral correspondence of appearance as clearly identifies 
their persons. 

I have indeed heard of brothers extremely like 
each other ; and I recollect an instance (which is in- 
serted among the French trials) of two persons so 
precisely similar in features, gait, manners, voice, 
height, and even in the moles on their faces, and 
other parts, that one personated the other ; and was 
by his relations, his acquaintance, and even by his 
wife and children, admitted to the rights of tha 
other. They had been comrades in the army, where 
the personated informed the personator of his inti- 
mate concerns, very circumstantially, by which 
knowledge the deceiver long maintained his credit. 
He was at last suspected on account of an estate 
which he wanted to sell * the magistrates of the place 
determined in his favour ; his opponents applied to 
a superior tribunal, which decided against him ; in 
consequence, he boldly appealed to the parliament 
as the ultimatum : but, while matters were thus situ- 
ated, the real and proper person returned from the 
army, having lost a leg : — which loss was the only 
difference whereby a casual observer could have dis- 
tinguished them. The impostor ended his life on a 



This singular fact evinces the propriety of the ob- 
servation, " no rule without exception," an observa- 
tion which (if any where) might, I should otherwise 
have thought, have met a contradiction on the sub- 
ject of character. 

Natural disposition is confirmed in its effects on 
the figure when it is corroborated by acquired habit. 
Should we abstract from Falstaff's figure, his 
round belly and swollen appearance ; and describe 
him as thin and meagre, would such description be 
thought natural ? The effect of that course of life 
to which he is supposed to have been addicted, is 
certainly what we find in him : not indeed punctu- 
ally as he describes himself, ' a goodly portly man, 
i'faith, and a corpulent ; of a cheerful look, a plea- 
sing eye, and a most noble carriage ;' but rather, 
as c a tun of man, a bombard of sack ;' as Fluel- 
len has it, i the fat knight with the great pelly- 
doublet, full of gests, and gypes, and knaveries, 
and mocks.' As a contrast to this great-pellied man, 
observe, f that bearded hermit-staff justice Shal- 
low, a man made after supper of a cheese-paring, 
a, forked radish, with a head fantastically carv'd up- 
on it, so forlorn, that his dimensions were to any 
thick-sight invisible, the very genius of famine, you 
might have trussed him, and all his apparel, into an 

The same poetical authority, in opening the men- 
tal disposition of Richard III. makes him thus 
comment on the character of his figure : 

' I, that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's majesty — ■ 
I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion, 

G g 2 Cheated 


Cheated of feature by dissembling nature, 
Deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time 
Into this breathing world, scarce half made up, 
And that so lamely and unfashipnably 
That dogs bark at me, as I halt by them' — ■ 

Is there any wonder such a cramped figure should 
be the seat of a mind full-fraught with villainy ? or 
that the human " bottled spider" should possess a 
venom far worse than that of the insect ? 

What the real character of many persons 'might 
be, abstracted from their professional habits, 
is not easy to say ; as we do not see them till those 
habits are formed, and as attentive observers may 
fail in their endeavours to make just allowance for 
the force of custom. That professional habit is very 
powerful, and very evident, must be granted, when 
we recollect the frequent remarks continually made 
on the subject:. Observe how conversation runs up- 
on it : " Such a person looks like a divine ; or at 
least like a student : such another, has a very warlike 
mien ; is quite weather-beaten ; very bluff; a right- 
down sailor, or soldier," &c. 

Certain it is, that a constant habit of moving any 
member of the person in one direction, will impart 
to that member an aptitude to fall into that direction 
on every occasion, whether connected with its origi- 
nal cause or not. A baker who has been used to 
"carry a bread-basket on his shoulders, always retains 
in walking somewhat of an air as if loaded; nay, I 
have been shewn instances of that perpetual jerk of 
the shoulders which eases the weight of the basket, 
remaining long after the person had left off that 



business. Persons used to exert great strength in 
their arms, can scarce handle any tiling lightly : if a 
couple of butchers pat each other on the shoulder, 
'tis with nearly as much force as would knock down 
an ox. 

I think it worth observing, that this effect is also 
evident among animals : I have noticed many a team 
of horses, taken off from the waggon, and going to 
some other part of the farm yard, or along a street, in 
which all the fore horses have fulled the hinder ones, 
as if they had also the whole weight of the waggon 
behind them : so abiding is the force of custom ! 

Weariness and vigour cause a difference of cha- 
racter in the same person, at different times ; the 
same man is taller in the morning than after he has 
done a hard day's work ; he has really lost of his 
height, and he has lost very considerably, of his ap- 
parent vigour and strength. 

Apparent vigour and strength are certainly more 
evident in those who follow trades which require 
great exertions of body, than they are in sedentary 
professions. Perhaps, I ought also to say, that, 
there is a difference in the character of those who 
reside in great cities, from those who breathe the 
fresh air of the country ; this I suppose has fre- 
quently been noticed ; and not always to the advan- 
tage of the citizen. 

Character is most apparent in those parts of the 
body which are most exercised, they being more 
strongly impregnated (shall I say) with its principles : 
hence those persons who use little exercise can shew 
little vigour in any part, or in the whole figure ; and 



hence those used to labour shew the effects of it 

" When we consider the great weight chairmen 
often have to carry, do we not readily consent, that 
there is a propriety and fitness in the Tuscan order 
of their legs, by which they properly become cha- 
racters as to nzure ? Watermen too are of a distinct 
cast or character, whose legs are no less remarkable 
for their smallness ; for as there is naturally the 
greatest call for nutriment to the parts that are most 
exercised, so of course those which lye so much 
stretched out, are apt to dwindle, or not grow to 
their full size ; so that a broad pair of shoulders, and 
spindle shanks, may be thought to distinguish this 
class of men." 

And is not custom, or habit, if not a source of 
grace, yet one cause that grace shews itself in the 
general movements of persons in the better ranks of 
life ? I have indeed seen a country wench perform 
some one action, as genteelly as the most elegant 
lady could have done it, because it was a natural 
offspring of the mind ; but immediately has that 
grace been quashed by a return to vulgarity. Such 
instances, however, serve to shew, that want of edu- 
cation in the precise fashion of motions, is no in- 
vincible impediment to graceful address, in a person 
of an ingenuous and liberal disposition of mind : 
but, when such a mind is happily instructed by pre- 
cept, the effect communicates itself throughout the 
whole of that person's manners. — And while manners 
make the man, the clown, whose thoughts are per- 
petually recurring to his wealth, whose pride of purse 



is his imaginary excellence, shall be contemned and 
neglected, and the epithet ' much of a gentleman' 
be bestowed on one of half his estate. 

The character acquired by habit, is so strong, 
that many persons used to courts have been disco- 
vered through the disguise of peasants ; as where is 
the peasant whose demeanour would comport with 
the behaviour becoming a drawing-room ? 

These, or similar ideas, are so evident among 
mankind, that they have been transferred and at- 
tached to imaginary beings also ; and according to 
the respective professions of gods and goddesses, 
have been the proportions technically assigned them. 
Diana as an huntress, must be light and agile ; 
Minerva may be more robust; Apollo would be 
strangely described by the heavy dimensions of Nep- 
tune or Pluto ; as Neptune or Pluto would 
think themselves ' vilely fallen away,' were their 
limbs as slender as those of the god of day. 

Mr. Hogarth has attempted to set this article 
in a clear lieht ; and his remarks merit attention : as 
we already have suggested somewhat the same mode 
of proceeding, we shall introduce them without 
any further remark. " Having set up the Antinous 
as our pattern, we will suppose," says he, " there 
were placed on one side of it, the unwieldy elephant- 
like figure of an Atlas, made up of such thick bonds 
and muscles, as would best fit him for supporting 
a vast weight, according to his character of extreme 
heavy strength : and, on the other side, imagine the 
slim figure of a Mercury, every where neatly formed 
for the utmost light agility, with slender bones and 
1 taper 


taper muscles fit for his nimble bounding from the 
ground. — Both these figures must be supposed of 
equal height, and not exceeding six feet. 

" Our extremes thus placed, now imagine the 
Atlas throwing off by degrees certain portions of 
bone and muscle, proper for the attainment of light 
agility, as if aiming at the Mercury's airy form and 
quality, whilst on the other hand, see the Mercury' 
augmenting his taper figure by degrees, and growing 
towards an Atlas in equal time, by receiving to the 
like places from whence they came, the very quan- 
tities that the other had been casting off, when, as 
they approach each other in weight, their forms of 
course may be imagined to grow more and more 
alike, till, at a certain point of time, they meet iit 
just similitude ; which being an exact medium be- 
tween the two extremes, we may thence conclude it 
to be the precise form of exact proportion, fittest 
for perfect active strength, or graceful movement ; 
such as the Antinous we proposed to imitate and 
figure in the mind. 

" We may illustrate it a little more, by observing, 
that in like manner, any two opposite colours in the 
rainbow form a third between them, by thus impart- 
ing to each other their peculiar qualities ; as the 
brightest yellow, and the lively blue that is placed 
at some distance from it, visibly approach, and blend 
by interchangeable degrees, and, as above, temper 
rather than destroy each other's vigour, till they 
meet in one firm compound ; whence, at a certain 
period, the sight of what they were originally is quite 
lost; but, in their stead, a most pleasing green is 



found, which colour Nature hath chosen for the vest- 
ment of the earth, and with the beauty of which the 
eye is never tired. 

" From the order of the ideas which the descrip- 
tion of the above three figures may have raised in 
the mind, we may easily compose between them va- 
rious other proportions," — as so many mixtures of 

Quitting these ideal personages for the humbler 
station of mankind ; — we observe that, as human life 
advances, character assumes other distinctions 
of appearance : our composition, intended for a 
limited duration, falls gradually to decay ; the spirit 
and firmness of maturity decrease to inactivity, and 
indecision. Having strength to spare, youth may 
stand on one leg, yet sustain itself well ; age requires 
always two, and somethnes calls in additional sup- 
port, in conformity to the riddle which represented 
man as i( a creature of four legs in the morning, two 
at noon, and three at night." 

'- To represent an old man standing," says Leo- 
nardo da Vinci, " you must give him a dulj, 
indolent attitude, with slow motions, his knees a 
little bent, his feet straddling, his back crooked, 
his head stooping forwards, and his arms rather 
folded than spread too wide." 

Age being deficient in strength, exerts the whole 
body, to perform what at the noon of life would 
have required only a part, or a single member. 

The imbecility of age is exquisitely drawn by 
the Royal Author, on whose words, were I to en- 
large, I might comment, thus : " Remember now 

Edit. 7. H h thy 


thy Creator, in the days of thy youth, ere the evil 
days come, or the years approach, wherein thou 
shalt complain, I have no pleasure." When the 
mental abilities shall have been gradually decaying ; 
when the reasoning, the conceptive, the reflective, 
the excursive powers shall forego their faculties ; 
when, what was once bright as the meridian sun, 
splendid as the beams of noon, shall be diminished 
to a few rays of ambiguous twilight, or to the feeble, 
the frigid lustre of the ever-changing planet ; that 
feeble lustre abating to the obscure glimmerings of 
distant stars, intercepted by clouds, thick clouds, 

clouds like those which accompany rain. 

In that day the keepers of the house (the arms) 
shall tremble, the strong men (the legs) sink beneath 
their burden, the grinders (the teeth) fail, unable to 
discharge their office. The once brilliant inspector 
is dark and useless : where is its vivid lightning, its 
penetrating influence ? the sparkling eye is extinct ! 
The pleasant voice is mute, whose gentle accents 
formerly delighted an attentive family, or cheerful 
friends ; which diffused sprightly wit, or darted 
mirthful sallies ; which promoted the loud carol, and 
assisted the joyous song : the daughters of music are 
enfeebled, the lips refuse their utterance, the tongue 
declines its duty ; the carol, and the song, give place 
to fear ; fear of accident from above, fear of danger 
from below. The once auburn locks are now white 
as the blossom of an almond ; the once vigorous 
body is now emaciated, yet, the emaciated body is 
a burden to its supports : and desire fails. What ! 
no desires ! no wishes ! no requests ! None. Be- 


cause man depnrteth to his long home, and the 
mourners go about the streets. The silver cord (the 
spinal marrow) is loosed, the golden bowl (the skull) 
is broken, the pitcher at the fountain is destroyed 
(the larger vessels, aorta, &c.) ; the wheel at the 
cistern (the heart and its motions, systole and diastole) 
is ruined ; the dust returns to its origin, the earth ; 
the spirit to the Author who imparted it. 

Thus have we closed the history of life, and thus 
we close the article character: we lay down in the 
silent tomb the mortal part of our nature, and await 
that reviviscence which we are taught to expect : 
what may be the character of the bodies we shall 
be favored with when we are again called to inhabit 
such vehicles, we cannot say : it is enough for us to 
conclude, from the benevolent omnipotence of their 
Author, that they will be every way fit for our ha- 
bitation ; and every way worthy the power, the dig- 
nity, and the kindness, which has prepared them for 


236 [lect. ix. 

ADDENDA to she Article CHARACTER. 

THE variety of character among mankind has 
given occasion to an equal variety of measures and 
proportions, each claiming to be adopted as a system 
of principles. Some masters are fond of the slen- 
der, which they think genteel ; others are not satis- 
fied, unless they represent the quality of strength in 
an eminent degree ; and these make every figure 
brawny and muscular : so that while by some masters 
figures are drawn to the proportion (or rather dispro- 
portion) of ten heads ; others are equally absurd in 
adopting less than seven heads. We have given the 
general and regular medium, to which, in temperate 
climates, mankind most usually correspond. It has 
been observed in the lecture, that in the colder 
climates of the globe, the inhabitants seem shrunk 
into dwarfs : we may add, that beneath the Torrid 
Zone the inhabitants are more slender and spare ; to 
this, among other causes, the manner of their living 
may much contribute, as well as the nature of 
their climate. It is evidently impossible such diver- 
sity can be reduced to measurement ; and every at- 
tempt of that kind is, and must be, fallacious. The 
variety of character found among any single nation, 
may defy the most indefatigable to reduce it to system- 
atic measures : of which any person may judge, 
who, in a crouded street, will observe the passing 
populace — some may be very tall, others very short ; 
but the generality will justify the principles we have 
adduced. It may be worth while just to hint, that 
2 the 


the proportional parts of brute animals do not fall 
into divisions by any means so regular as those of 
the human figure ; on the contrary, to measure them 
by dimensions of their heads, or their heads by di- 
visions of their nose?, would be evidently absurd; 
and yet in these subjects a distinction of character 
is abundantly visible ; and very lately a shepherd has 
sworn in a court of justice, that he knew each indi- 
vidual sheep of his flock by its countenance (a cir- 
cumstance which the judge said was not new to him) ; 
such is the unlimited fertility of Nature ! 

It might have been observed in the lectures, 
that both gigantic persons, and dwarfs, have gene- 
rally very large heads. The tallest person we re- 
member (Bamford, the Hatter of Shire-Lane) was 
proportionably large in his figure ; bur he purposely 
stooped considerably, to conceal as much as he could 
his extraordinary height. Ail the dwarfs we have 
ever seen, have had large heads ; and, in general, 
members too small for their bodies : indicating a 
preternatural conformation of their parts ; and a 
great deviation from the usual course of nature. 

Mr. Grainger, in his " Biographical History" 
(which is a list of portraits) gives an account of 
" The lively portrait of Barbara, wife of Michael 
Van Beck, born at Augsburg, in High Germany; 
the daughter of Balthasar and Anne Urstej aged 29., 
A.D. 1051." 



The face and hands of this woman are represented 
hairy all over. She has a very long and large spread- 
ing beard, the hair of which hangs loose and flow- 
ing like the hair of the head, he. [This print we 
have seen, and confirm Mr. G.'s description of it.] 
Such another lusus natime is " Anna Macae- 
lame, born in the Orkneys in Scotland, A. D. lt)I5, 
being presented to the king's majesties sight, Octo- 
ber 1662." She is represented in a fur cap and man's 
gown, her beard is very large, and like an old 
man's : the following verses are under the print. 

Tho* my portraiture seems to be 
A man's, my sex denies me so 5 
Nature has still variety, 
To make the world her wisdom know. 

Mr. G. adds, " I saw, A. D. 1750, at the palace 
of St. Ildefonso, in Spain, a portrait of a Neapolitan 
woman, with much such another beard as Anna 
Macallame's. I also saw, a woman at Rotherhithe, 
with a masculine beard. The largest of these is by 
no means comparable to that of Barbara Van- 

These instances of nature's excentricity, may be 
added to that mentioned in the lecture in con- 
firmation of the proverb, ' no rule without excep- 
tion :' these are striking exceptions surely ! 

I do not find, notwithstanding their singularity, 
that the proprietors of these beards were considered 
as -witches t although such an excrescence was a prin- 
cipal mark attributed to that kind of gentry ; " I 
think the 'oman be a witch indeed, I spy a great 



peard under her muffler," says parson Hugh *. The 
errors of superstition are banished ; certainly the fair 
sex are more fascinating witches, without this ap- 
pendage than with it. 

We are told of Alexander, that in order to 
preserve his c/.hin/£7e?~ of personal representation, he 
forbad all Artists to represent him except Apelles 
the painter, and Lysippus the sculptor in brass: 
not less scrupulous on the subject of her chara£!er y 
was our Queen Elizabeth, as appears from a pro- 
clamation, dated 1563, which prohibits " all man- 
ner of persons to draw, paynt, grave, or pourtrayit 
her majesty's person or visage for a time ; until by- 
some perfect patron or example, the same may be 
by others followed, &c. and for that her majestie per- 
ceiveth that a grete nombre of her loving subjects 
are much greved, and take grete offence with the er- 
rours and deformities allredy committed by sondry 
persons in this behalf, she straightiy charge th all her 
officers, and ministers, to reform these errors, &c." 
Were a similar law enforced, it would prevent the 
spoiling of much good copper, ink, and paper, as 
well as " grete offence," with the uxlikenesses of 
our illustrious, and royal personages of the present 

* Merry Wives of Windsor, 



The copiousness, and indeed almost infinity, of the 
article character of the figure, would require, 
if traced minutely, a greater proportion of Plates than 
can be allotted to it ; and, after all, a selection only 
could be offered. Aware of this difficulty, to il- 
lustrate this Lecture, we have had recourse to 
the Antique for a number of additional subjects, and 
from among the most famous figures extant, have 
selected such as either by their celebrity, or their re- 
markableness of character, or their contrast with 
others, might most readily explain and enforce the 
principles previously adduced. Nevertheless we have 
retained our former examples of character under 
less dignified forms, and forms which more com- 
monly offer themselves in Nature. 

There is less need to be diffuse on this Article, as 
the plates belonging to the proportions of the fi- 
gure have prepared the student for the advanta- 
geous reception of these ; and those illustrating the 
Lecture of expression of the figure, may be 
considered as so many instances of character no 
less than of expression. 


LECT. IX."] 241 





This plate represents variations of Character, in 
the proportions and form of the figure, occasioned by 
the changes attendant on the progressive stages of life* 

Fig. 1 . A child ; whose general aspect is short- 
er, plumper, and rounder, than that of any other 
period of life : and not only is this the general cha- 
racter of the figure, but of the parts also, to the 
very extremities. 

Fig. 2. Shews the effect produced by advances 
toward maturity : the growth of these figures has 
produced a thinness, a delicacy, a prolongation of 
parts, which, while it partakes much of the moisture 
of early life, yet is greatly varied in its proportions 
from those of fig. 1 . 

Fig. 3. The youth and tenderness of No. 2. seem 
to be advanced in this figure to greater firmness and 
strength, yet without losing that freedom and light- 
ness which characterise the activity of youth. 

Fig. 4. This figure, to the most accurate and deli- 
cate proportion, unites the vigour and firmness of 
that mature age, which is the prime of life : health, 
promptitude, and whatever of boldness and ala- 
crity may be expected, seem to be characterised in 
the forms of this figure. 

Edit. 7- I i PLATE 

242 [leCt. IX. 


Fig. 1. and 1. are two views of that celebrated 
figure commonly called the Antinous; which is 
esteemed the most perfect model of grace and 
beauty, in? the delicate manly form. 

Fig. 3. and 4. are two views of the famous Her- 
cules of Glycon, esteemed the most perfect mo 
del of muscular strength, and powerful formation. 

These characters are placed together with design 
to impress more decidedly, by means of contrast, 
the peculiarities of each : each in its style is great ; 
yet in Proportions and Character each is so dif- 
ferent from the other, as well in the whole as in the 
parts, that it would be endless to enumerate the par- 

Though these figures are given but on a small 
scale, yet their differences of conformation are very 
evident : the Antinous has been given at large in 
Plates Q5, &c. under the article Proportion. To 
estimate properly the contrast of these figures, the 
Antinous should be conceived of as under six feet 
high; while the Hercules should be estimated at 
upwards of seven in height, and the breadth of his- 
members in proportion. 

LECT. IX.] 243 


Fig.]. Partly with design to corre 61 a general 
mistake which has prevailed respecting the character 
proper to Bacchus, we have chosen to select an in- 
stance of the form given to this deity by the an- 
cient Artists, in which youth and beauty, and grace- 
ful and tender proportions, are chosen to form the 
representation of the enlivening God of Wine. 

Fig. 2. A character of Silenus ; which well 
contrasts that of Bacchus : and appears to be 
much nearer to the Bacchus of certain moderns. 
The general air, as well as form, of this figure, at 
once impress themselves, on the spectator's notice. 

We might remark on these two characters, that 
the effect of wine is different, whether it be used for 
refreshment, or indulged in to excess. To this dif- 
ference the ancient Artists have attended ; and while 
the deity seems to be merely enlivened by the 
vinous beverage, the libertine shews in his form the 
consequences of intemperate swilling, &c. &c. on 
his constitution and figure. 

Fig. 3. The Apollo Belvidere. 

Fig. 4. Mars. These two figures shew a dis 
position to, and fitness for, exertion ; but exertion 
of different kinds : lightness, grace, agility, cha- 
ra<terise the first : strength, resistance, determina- 
tion, force, characterise the second : each is pro- 
per to its office, and employment. 

I i 2 PLATE 

244 [lect. ix. 


Fig. l. Venus : the very delicate, graceful, 
youthful yet mature, and tender yet complete, pro- 
portions of this celebrated figure, undoubtedly enr 
title it to hold a distinguished place among the cha- 
racters which may claim beauty — a beauty not 
merely human, but divine. 

Fig. 2. Diana : light, agile, rapid, brisk, fit 
for celerity, and swiftness of motion. 

Fig. 3. A water nymph ; whose clear foun- 
tains yield the translucent stream, fresh, pure, and 
gentle : and whose double sources are hinted at by 
her carrying two water urns. 

Fig. 4. Flora : whose dignified character 
unites elegance of attitude, and graceful motion, to 
mature and matron-like proportions. 

As the characters of these figures require they 
should be cloathed, it is very rare to find them others- 
wise ; their proportions, nevertheless, appear suffi- 
ciently varied ; though they are thereby precluded 
from yielding those precise and accurate measures of 
the parts, &c. which we obtain from some others, 


LECT. IX."] «245 


Fig. 1. A Faun : whose riotous mirth, raised 
by an undue indulgence in the juice of the grape, 
well expresses the effects of inebriety on the but half 
human character of his kind. 

Fig. 2. A heavy, but grand, symbolical repre- 
sentation of a river god (the Nile), whose capa- 
cious and overflowing stream imparts plenty where- 
ever it extends : the dignity of this river, its im- 
portance, its magnitude, are well expressed by the 
great breadth of his proportions, and the general 
amplitude of his figure. 

Beside the differences of these figures as to their 
character, the difference of their expressions and at- 
titudes deserves notice : that of the Faun is little 
short of extravagance through excess of activity and 
exertion : that of the Nile is stately, sedate, dig- 
nified : so that these subjects (as indeed most of the 
others), are not less examples of expression than of 


24(3 [lect. ix. 


Fig. 1. Pan teaching Apollo to play on his 
Pastoral Pipe. 

A capital group ; and a striking contrast. Apol- 
lo, delicate, thin, and slender; Pan, broad and 
heavy, but vigorous and strong : a mixture of the 
goat with the human form. 

Fig. 1. A Centaur driven by Cupid. 

The alliance of the human and bestial forms, is, 
certainly, beyond a liberty ; it is a licentiousness : 
yet Art may boast, when it has succeeded, as in this 
instance, in giving a character of which it could 
have had no prototype in nature. Not only is the 
horse part fine, but it is united to the human part 
with much skill ; and the character of the human parr 
is such as perfectly well agrees with the animal. 

However there may appear something noble in 
the external appearance of this and other compound 
figures, because Art has imparted that nobleness to 
them, yet whoever has any acquaintance with inter- 
nal anatomy, will quickly discern the utter impossi- 
bility of any such mixture taking place to advantage, 
in nature ; because, if the principal viscera were 
placed so as to suit one of these characters, the 
other must be vacant: or, if to suit both, the vis- 
cera must be double, i. e. complete in each. 



LgCT. IX.] '247 


PLATE CX. A BOY; from a Drawing by 
Mr. Cosway. 



PLATE CXIII. A SOLDIER, standing, resting 
on his Colours. 





This Plate exhibits that celebrated Character in 
four different situations : 1 . Offering combat to his 
antagonist the Barber ; wherein we remark, that how 
bold soever his fists may appear, the rest of his figure 
preserves a considerable distance, wisely placing ge- 
neralship in securing a retreat : 2. His prowess 
alarmed at the oracular head : 3. Laughing at one 
of his Master's vagaries : 4. Endeavouring to main- 
tain the judicial character, of the Governor of Bara- 

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Ladies aisd GentleiMen, 

W E are arrived at the last lecture of the present 
series, wherein we propose to investigate some of 
those principles which may illustrate the expres- 
sion of the FIGURE. 

This subject is extremely copious ; We may indeed- 
say expressions are infinite, and that each person 
has his peculiar expression : however^ as this article 
has, like all others, its general rules and limitations, 
we shall endeavour, by illustrating them, to render 
the subject itself intelligible, within a moderate com- 

Expression always implies motion ; but motion 
has also its laws and its peculiarities. Expression 
does not so much create motion as direct it — direct it 
to a particular purpose, and to a specific end. We 
shall therefore, before we proceed to expression, 
attend somewhat to the principles which appear to 
govern the motions of the human figure, 

Edit. 7. Kk Of 

250 expression of the figure. [lect. x. 

Of Motion and its Principles. 

We will suppose, if you please, a figure standing 
perfectly still, resting equally on both his feet ; in 
this attitude, each leg sustains an equal weight, im- 
pending on it from the body, and the pit between 
the clavicula is perpendicularly over the feet ; but, 
should the figure extend his arm, that pit quits its 
station ; or if a leg be advanced, that pit is moved ; 
and by every new attitude, it obtains a new situa- 

When a person has extended an arm, his hand, 
at the extremity of that arm, aces so strongly by its 
weight, which (on the principle of the lever) is at 
that distance from the centre considerable, that, were 
it not counterpoised by some addition on the other 
side the centre, he would inevitably fall : to 
prevent this, by inclining his shoulder on the con- 
trary side from ik« kajsd which is extended, a man 
throws to that part sufficient weight to preserve his 
balance. This inclination of the shoulder is chiefly 
seen by its effects on the hips : put a pound into the 
hand held out, and the motion of the body to obtain 
an equilibrium is very distinct, and apparent ; put 
ten, or twenty, pounds, a violent motion ensues to 
decrease the .quantity of the body on the loaded side, 
and to augment it on the other. On the same prin- 
ciple, a man ready to fall on one side, never fails to 
stretch out the parts of the other side. 

If we suppose a figure from a state of rest inclined 
to walk, he will attempt it on the same plan : in- 
stead of a weight being placed in his hand, on one 
1 side^ 

lect. x.] expression op Tin: rinrur.. 

side, he will throw fofwkrd so niucli \u fg i.t Oi I 
person as he designs his pace to he bl i ■ '■ I r, or slow, 
and by a constant pursuit, as it wuc, oi :. is centre 
of gravity, he advances from place to piace. In a 
man walking leisurely, this is hardly \\ . le ; 

but, in one running swiftly, his head and should 
advance considerably before that foot which sprin 
from the ground : if he run against a strong wind, 
in order to overcome its resistance, he protrudes his 
upper parts so greatly, that were it suddenly with- 
drawn, he would inevitably tumble fotward. 

That displacing the centre of gravity is the cause 
of motion, appears from the instances of birds, who 
are often seen to sail in the air without any assistance 
from the wind, or any exertion of their wings : now, 
it is evident, that if the centre of a bird's weight be 
more forward than the centre of his supporting 
wings, the progress of the bird will be forward, and 
descending; with greater, or ic^, rapidity, as the 
weight of the bird is thrown more, or less, forward. 

The motions of figures should always shew the 
exertion of that degree of strength which they may 
rationally be supposed to employ in their respective 
actions ; a man lifting; a stick, does not exert an ef- 
fort equal to another raising a beam : for a man will 
never be able to lift a burden, till he counterpoise 
it with a greater weight than itself. 

A man intending to strike a violent blow, averts 
himself from the object, of his attack, and collecting 
all his force, discharges it with a velocity com- 
pounded of the motion of his arm, and of the 
weight of the weapon with which he strikes. 

K k '2 A per- 


A person about to leap, bends his body to acquire 
a spring, then quickly extends the junctures of the 
thigh, knee, and feet : the body, by this extension, 
describes an oblique line, inclining forward, and 
rising upward ; the motion directed forward, carry- 
ing the body in that direction ; the motion intended 
upward, elevating it : these conjoined, describe a 
large arch, or semicircle, in which line a man is ob- 
served to leap. 

The utmost degree of contortion to which a man 
in viewing his hind parts is able to attain, is, to look 
perpendicularly down upon his heels : and this is 
not performed without great difficulty, since besides 
a flexure of his neck, his legs are likewise to be bent, 
and the shoulder over which the head declines to be 
considerably lowered. 

A man who in retiring would tear any thing out 
of the earth, raises the leg opposite to the arm 
wherewith he aa s * n d bends that knee : this he 
does, to balance himself on the leg which supports 
his body, for without thus bending it he could not 
act, neither could he retire without stretching it 
out. Such are some of the laws of Motion. 

But, to quit these violent motions, I wish to pre- 
sent, in this Lecture, a few ideas on movements of 
a more placid and graceful kind. 

I had the honour, pn a former occasion, to intro- 
duce a few hints on the subject of Beauty : to in- 
vestigate the principles of Grace, which is the per- 
fection of Beauty, I would request you to recollect, 
tjiat we considered Beauty as dependent on fitness, 
variety, and symmetry : if the same principles be 



supposed to accompany motion, we shall not, I ap- 
prehend, be very distant from a just idea of Grace: 
since (as appears to me) that motion will be moft 
elegant, which molt eminently possesses these qua- 

A porter in carrying a load, a man in pushing, 
or pulling, a great weight, exerts his strength in the 
shortest manner possible : his actions form a number 
of lines, all straight ; here may be the utmost degree 
of fitness, but in straight lines can be no variety. 
Posture-masters have disfigured their figures into the 
most extravagant attitudes ; their hands and feet 
turned into twists, their backs where their fronts, 
and their heads where their heels, should be : but 
not an idea of Grace in any of their motions ; be- 
cause, symmetry was banished, and fitness was for- 

We expect elegant movements in a well-bred dan- 
cer ; let us attentively eacamiM hlo principles. The 
minuet is reckoned one of our most graceful dance?, 
if indeed it be not the most graceful of them all t 
Now, the grace of this dance arises greatly from its 
variety of appearance, of attitude, and of sentiment, 
from the gradual progress of its motions, rising, 
sinking, turning, without hurry or perturbation. 
From the minuet we select that period, in which their 
rjght hands are reciprocally offered by the dancers : 
were it requisite only to give the hand to the part- 
ner, a simple strait motion would be quite sufficient ; 
and without loss of time might the Gentleman (or 
rather in this case the bruiser) elevate his fist to the 
height of his antagonist's ; or, whether his hand 



accepted, was before, or behind, the line of his 
arm ; above, or below his wrist, would be of small 
consideration in the opinion of a clown. What then 
imparts elegance to this motion ? Its progress seems 
to be as follows : First, The palm of the hand, from 
being turned inward to the person, begins to be tur- 
ned outward ; this motion is felt by the wrist, which 
Communicates it to the arm, and the arm to the 
shoulder ; the line of motion being gently lengthened 
from part to part : that it may not be sudden, it is 
gradual ; it is uninterrupted and constant, lest its 
design should appear defeated ; and from a very 
simple beginning, the movement becomes more com- 
plex, and lively, as it approaches its termination, 
and as the arm rises. 

Here we have, — -fitness, as the motion is adapted to 
the member ; — variety r , as what follows advances on 
what preceded, till a climax terminates the whole ; — 
and uniformity, 01 *,****&& as the motion through 
all its varieties is but one action. 

Contrast is likewise a principal ingredient in 
grace. A spectator is entertained by variety in the 
lines of a figure ; for example, if the eyes look 
one way, the breast may be gently turned another : 
I- say gently, for were this motion violent, it would 
produce not contrast, but contorsion. 

As the instance already selected from the minuet, 
offers this principle very clearly, we shall continue 
our remarks on it. 

The approach of a dancer at presenting right 
hands in a minuet, is not directly to meet the part- 
ner, but, while the figure describes a circular course 



in advancing, the head turns toward the partner at 
an easy angle from the line of progress : which BOB* 
trast imparts that very genteel, and graceful, air, 
which is remarkable in this movement. In effect, 
therefore, one sentiment, aptly expressed by variety 
of motion, uniting harmoniously to form a w! 
may be considered, not impropcrlv, as a definition 
of grace, on this part of our subject. 

That length of lines contributes to grace, appears 
from the movements of those animals whose limbs 
are longest. The noble motions of a Horse arise 
chiefly from this principle, because, the share of 
weight distributed to each member being; a mere 
trifle, he moves with more liberty, spirit, ease, and 
flexibility, than a Hog, for instance, whose uncouth 
and clumsy movements correspond to the shortness 
of his limbs. The same advantage has a greyhound 
over a cur. 

In the majestic Swan, ti.e .^ious turns of his neck 
are eminently graceful ; because its movements arc not 
sudden but moderate : a Goose may vainly attempt 
imitation ; when she stoops at entering a barn, she 
may shew much discretion, prudence, and sagacity, 
but no grace : nor when a Duck entreats admission 
to a farm yard, is the incessant rising and falling of 
her neck, a nearer approach to elegant movement, 
than her garrulity is to elegant discourse. 

But we must remember, that the same graces, and 
movements, are not equally becoming to figures of 
every kind : the facility of graceful motion we have 
been describing, by no means agrees with the vulgar 
manners of boors, nor with that rigidity, or with 



those infirmities, to which age is subject. Charac- 
ter controuls motion ; as we shall see it also controuls 
expression ; in what manner, or to what degree, we 
shall now proceed to enquire. 


WHEN reading accounts of discoveries in distant 
countries, I have sometimes almost wished myself a 
spectator of the various emotions shown by the par- 
ties on such occasions ; for, being ignorant of each 
ether's language, they were in effect mutes. I ob- 
serve, that signs which related to necessary, and na- 
tural, wants, were quickly understood on both sides: 
nor were the principles of commerce and barter long 
'ere they were settled. Such scenes must be moving 
pictures, where each party expresses naturally, and 
without ambiguity, their sentiments by their actions, 
oou^umo, we r ead { n history of barbarous people 
compassionating the entreaties of their captives., even 
when leading them to death : sometimes applauding 
their heroism, when boldly meeting it : and this, 
without knowing a word of the sufferers' language, 
but sympathizing with their expression, whether 
pathetic, or firm. 

In fact, it is not always language that produces the 
greatest effect on the party designed to be moved : 
there is often more eloquence in a flood of tears, than 
in the best spoken oration : and in a silent attitude, 
than in a tempest of words. So Milton thought, 
who, like his Adam, underwent the trial. 

Eve with tenrs that ccas'd not flowing, 
And tresses all disordered at Lis feet 



Fell humble, ami embracing them, besought 

His peace 

■ her lowly plight 

Immovable till peace obtajn'd from fault 
Acknowledg'd and deplor'd, in Adam wrought 
Commiseration 3 soon bis heart relented 
Towarus her, so late !,is life and sole delight, 
Now at his feet submissive in distress 

Indeed we often hear it said — it was not so much the 
words, as the ?/tamier of speaking them, that gave 
offence, or satisfaction ; which ' manner of speak- 
ing,' be it remembered, is an important mode of ex- 
pression : if not rather the very essence of expression. 

There is a difference between gesticulation and ex- 
pression, the former being an acquired and constant 
habit ; the latter the offspring of mental sensibility, 
arising naturally from the present occasion ; con- 
sequently, as occasion varies expression varies with 
it : it is not a set of motions which constitutes expres- 
sion ; but, a genuine sensation of the mind, produc- 
ing a correspondent action of the person, thereby 
manifesting the internal sentiment. 

All the members of the person contribute to Ex- 
pression. Elevation of the head expresses haughti- 
ness, contempt, disdain ; depression of the head ex- 
presses modesty, humility, respect: ; when the head 
is borne evenly it indicates firmness ; when it sinks 
on one side, it manifests dejection. 

The hands are very considerable agents in this 
business : by them we applaud, we request, we re- 
fuse, or we command. In requesting, we hold our 
hands level, the palm upward, as if to receive what 
we desire ; in refusing, we turn the palm of the hand 

Edit. 7. LI down- 


downward, thereby rendering it impossible the object 
intended to be refused should be put into it ; in 
commanding, we point to what we order to be done ; 
and sometimes the finger held up is sufficiently au- 

The feet, as the means of advancing, and of re- 
treating, chiefly (if not altogether), in those motions, 
contribute to expression. We approach what we de- 
sire ; we recoil from what we dislike. The feet sel- 
dom contradict the motions of the hands, but, some- 
times they stand, as it were, ready for escape, from 
dangers whereinto the hands will venture. 

I proceed to notice the principal passions, retain- 
ing the order in which we formerly treated them. 

Admiration, which produces but little change 
in the features of the countenance, has little greater 
effect on the figure : it may be represented, by a 
person standing erect, his hands opened, and lifted 
up, his arms approaching his body : standing pretty 
firmly on his feet. 

In Esteem the body will be somewhat bent ; the 
shoulders rather elevated, though but little ; the 
arms folded, and close to the body ; the hands 
opened, and not very distant from each other ; the 
knees bent. 

Veneration increases the flexure of the body, 
and of the knees ; the hands and arms almost unite ; 
all parts of the body mark profound respect. When 
connected with objects of faith, Veneration aug- 
ments the strength of the foregoing motions ; crosses 
the hands on the breast, lowers the head, and bends 
the body to prostration. 



Rapture, or Ecstacy, may be expressed*; by the 
body thrown backward, the arms elevated, the hands 
open, the whole action joyful, animated, transported. 

The effect of Scorn is to draw back the body, to 
extend the arms, as repulsing the object of aversion; 
the legs, and indeed the whole figure, stiff. 

Horror excites violent movements'; the body 
strongly withdraws from the object which causes this 
passion, the hands will be quite open, the fingers 
spread, the arms kept tight to the body ; the legs 
endeavouring to escape. 

Affright has very vigorous expression ; the arms- 
thrown forward seem to stiffen ; the legs fly with the 
utmost rapidity ; and every part of the body shrinks 
from its dreaded adversary. 

Love creates no great emotion in the figure ; the 
presence of its object animates its motions, but not 
very strongly, nor after any fixed manner, in modest 
affection ; which has much respect in its expression. 

Desire extends the arms toward its object, and 
inclines the whole body on that side : all parts of the 
figure appear agitated and restless. 

Of Hope we have observed that its motions are 
contradictory, and fluctuating ; wavering between 
doubt and expectation. 

Joy is a first step to rapture ; its motions are more, 
or less, moderate ; according to character and occa- 

Fear has many motions in common with af- 
fright, when it arises from a dread of losing some- 
what we value, or when we await an approaching 
calamity : this passion shrugs the shoulders^ keeps 

L 1 2 tight 


tight the arms, and hands, to the body ; the other 
parts are bent, as it were, collected together, and 

Jealousy has an invincible curiosity to watch its 
object ; the head, and upper part of the body, will 
protrude themselves, in hopes of escaping notice by 
means of the feet, which stand ready for retreat. 

The agitations of anger are excessive and out- 
rageous ; the muscles swelled, highly inflated, and 
distinct, the veins prominent, and the whole figure 
in fury : anger would generally destroy its object if 
possible, and may be represented as so employed. 

What shall we say of despair ? It is a daemonia- 
cal madness, a possession, an unutterable suffering, 
a principal ingredient of hell : in its motions closely 
allied to anger. 

We have mentioned each passion apart, that we 
might attain a clearer, and more forcible, conception 
of its motions ; it is, however, very seldom that any 
passion is free from some mixture with others : their 
combinations may easily be gathered from what has 
been suggested on this subject in relation to the coun- 
tenance : but perhaps some instance, by way of il- 
lustration, may be more satisfactory. 

Here I might introduce, as an example, a descrip- 
tion of a battle, in which Leonardo da Vinci has 
indulged himself; but, to avoid the melancholy of 
such subjects, I rather choose to invite your thoughts 
to a more cheerful event. It is not indeed a very 
cheerful opening of the story, to say, a young man 
in the vigour of life, happy in respectable connec- 
tions abroad, in affectionate relatives at home, was 



by a fatal distemper numbered among the silent 
dead : yet, when I acquaint you his name was — 
Lazarus, your thoughts anticipate the joyful occur- 
rence, whose expressions I mean to investigate. 

Let us previously recollect the Ch&QuSbers neces- 
sary to introduce in this composition, that we may 
more accurately adapt to each the requisite and ap- 
propriate expression. 

In the first place, it would be proper to gi\e as 
much authority, and dignity, to the attitude and 
figure of Christ, as is consistent with the humility 
of the Son of Man, who not many minutes before had 
strongly manifested himself " the acquaintance of 

Lazarus we may consider as a man of vigorous 
years, perhaps about thirty. 

His sister Martha, a woman of a warm disposi- 
tion ; noble, generous, free, hospitable, yet careful. 

Mary, of a more mild and placid temper ; and 
perhaps much the youngest of the family. Both 
the sisters women of fortune, and educated accord- 
ingly : — perhaps, even of elegant manners. 

Next, we place the Apostles, on whose charac- 
ters I shall not enlarge: but suppose Peter, as a 
warm man, to be a forward figure among them ; and 
John, as being " the disciple whom Jesus loved," 
to be near his divine Master, on this occasion. 

Beside these, were, (l.) Friends who accompa- 
nied Martha and Mary; (2.) Pharisees, or 
considerable men ; (3.) Others drawn together by 
the appearance of Jesus and his retinue; (4.) Ser- 
vants of various sorts, &c. 



This last groupe of characters may be divided with 
regard to expression, into (l.) those who were be- 
lievers already ; (2.) those converted on this occa- 
sion ; (3.) those who remained unconverted. 

This subject is so replete with expression, that 
some slight anachronisms are inevitable ; but, I 
apprehend even great masters have not exerted them- 
selves to avoid all they might. It is usual to select 
that point of time when Jesus is speaking, " Lazarus 
come forth !" I confess it is honorable to the speaker; 
but what is the situation of the spectators ? Universal 

Take, therefore, the occurrences somewhat lower : 
suppose we imagine that at speaking the words, 
(c Loose him and let him go," our Lord might, 
condescendingly, take hold of Lazarus by the 
hand ; this idea gains two advantages ; one an oppor- 
tunity of expressing the love of Jesus to Lazarus; 
another that we can introduce Lazarus into a prin- 
cipal situation, in a natural and easy manner ; and 
without those contrivances of looking into the tomb, 
or placing the tomb awry, &c, which disfigure some 
capital pictures. 

The attitude of Jesus should be affectionate, yet 
noble ; and requires no great exertion of his limbs,, 
but an easy sway of his figure. 

When I mentioned slight anachronisms, I chiefly 
referred to the necessity we are under of shewing that 
Lazarus had been dead. It is to be supposed, in fact, 
that his restored life was in perfect and vigorous 
health ; yet it is pardonable in a picture, if some 
2 part 


part of him, such as his feet, or Legs, retain somewhat 

Of the corpse. 

Whatever might be the sensations of L \ / \ius on 
his return to his earthly tabernacle, we need nut 
doubt hut his countenance expressed — surprise at his 
situation — love to his master — to his sisters, — and to 
his friends. 

Martha, as the elder sister, may be supposed 
to have paid her addresses of adoration to our Lord, 
and to be by this time ready to assist her returning 
brother : while Mary continues prostrate in the act 
of worship. Peter as a curious, and hasty person, 
may be stretching out his neck with an inquisitive 
air : and John's placidity may appear yielding to 
surprise, love, and veneration. 

Those who were already believers may shew — joy 
and wonder ; those converted — astonishment and re- 
spect ; those hardened — chagrin and mortification. 

This brief analysis may suffice to explain the na- 
ture of expression, which should always be 
(I.) Characteristic ; i. e. such movements, all 
things considered, as that person may be supposed 
to exert upon the occasion related ; a king may not 
skip like an harlequin ; nor an apostle forsake his 
decorum. (II.) Natural ; some postures indeed 
may occasionally be noticed in real life, which would 
not be approved in a picture ; but that expression 
should be natural is so obvious a principle, that I 
might almost call it trite. (III.) Select, by which 
I mean— not such as may be seen every day, applied 
to extraordinary occurrences ; but chosen with pro- 


priety, and introduced with discretion. (IV.) Forci- 
ble : every spectator of an artist's performance will 
not enter so readily into his ideas as himself, or as 
another artist; therefore, to render it striking, the 
passions should be expressed with clearness, and 
vigour ; but with the utmost caution against extrava- 
gance ; lest though the ignorant should then ap- 
plaud, the well-informed should condemn. 

It has long been a precept among artists, that ex- 
pression must be studied from nature ; its graces 
are transient and momentary : no model can imitate 
them ; it is absurdity to suppose it. Models may 
frequently afford proportion, sometimes character, 
but never just and elegant expression. 

There is yet another kind of expression which I 
have called by accompaniment, such is the spider's 
web over the poor's box ; which demonstrates the 
remote period when charity dropped its benefac- 
tion : such is the inscription to the honour of the 
emperor Tiberius, on the Roman standard, borne 
at the crucifixion of Christ, which marks the time 
of that prince to be the time when he suffered. 

Ideal figures likewise serve to express many cir- 
cumstances not otherwise to be introduced. But as 
these form no part of our present subject, we refer 
them to some future opportunity. 

There is however one kind of expression which 
it would ill become me to omit ; and that is, an 
expression of the sense I entertain of the honour done 
me by your candid and cheerful attention : It be- 
comes me, I say, Ladies and Gentlemen, to 



acknowledge that I feci your respectful attention 
during the course of these Lectures, with great 
satisfaction ; and I flatter myself I may regard it as 
evidence that the precepts they contain will be 
useful, as I hope they have been entertaining, to 
Hiy auditory. 


Edit. 7. Mm LIST 

266 [^ECT. X. 





From an original drawing by Poussin. 

THIS figure stands almost equally poised on both 
his feet ; yet not so equally, but, that the principal 
weight of his body is supported by one leg chiefly. 
This attitude, therefore, has no need to seek by any 
exertion, or extension of its members, to preserve a 
balance ; as the distribution of weight is pretty near 
equal on each side of the central line of the figure ; 
so that this figure is altogether at rest. 


From an original drawing by Poussin. 

This figure rests the weight of his body almost en- 
tirely on one leg, the other serving merely as art 
assistant in preserving his balance. It appears, that so 
much of his weight as is thrown on one side at his 
haunches, is counterpoised on the other side, by the 
projection of his shoulders to that side, and by the 
extension of his arms. This figure, therefore, has 
some difficulty to preserve itself at rest, and might 
easily be put in motion. 


LECT. X.] 2(37 


From an original drawing by Poussix. 

This figure appears to design an easy, calm, pro- 
gress ; he is little agitated, little impelled, he throws 
forward one arm, and- retires the opposite leg; and, 
by an easy sway of his body, he gently pursues his 
progress from place to place. 


From an original Jraiving by PoussiNf. 

This figure extends his arms much further than 
the former ; and, in consequence, he throws his op- 
posite shoulder much further back, counterpoising 
thereby the weight which the hand, by being ex- 
tended, occasions to its own side ; as the legs are not 
proportionately extended, the upper part of the 
figure appears to be the chief seat of Motion. 

M m 2 PLATE 

26 8 [lect. x, 


From an original drawing by Poussin. 

This figure is an example of a less vehement mo- 
tion in his design to throw the stone which he grasps ; 
and which, by his moderate preparation for it, he 
seems not to mean to throw far, or with any great 
rapidity, toward the object at which he aims. 


From an original drawing by Poussin. 

This figure shows a more vehement action : he 
withdraws himself strongly from the object at which 
he is about to hurl his dart, in order that he may 
exert the whole of his powers in performance of that 
one action ; and that he may interest, as it were, 
every muscle of his body in the execution of his 


LECT. X.] 2Gl) 

From an original drawing hy Poussin. 

Two men endeavouring to overthrow a pillar, A. 
by pushing it from him with all his might, B. by 
pulling to him. In A. the principal muscles appear 

swelled, compressed, shortened, and thicker than 
usual ; in B. they arc more lengthened, thinner, and 
lank, than ordinary. 

It appears from these figures, that both motions, 
take as it were their origin from the legs, and I 
they acting upon that resisting medium tthc ground) 
without which no effort could be made : but, wi- 
the head of A. is considerably before the supporting 
line of his foot, (and the further it is projected the 
greater weight he throws towards his object,) B. en- 
deavours to withdraw his head behinS the support of 
his foot. As A. succeeds in his efforts ro pu>h the 
object from him, his parts advance nearer to a straight 
line, while B. becomes more bent as the object yields 
to his strength ; the different curvature of the backs 
and reins in these figures indicate their approach to 
these states. If B. was drawing somewhat from be- 
low him, (out of the earth for instance) he would 
bend himeslf forward to grasp it, and become 
straighter as he succeeded : or if A. was pushing an 
object above him, he would bend in his efforts, and 
straighten himself as he accomplished his purpose. 

From an original drawing by Poussin. 
This figure, as an instance of carrying a load, 
shews — that so much of its own weight is thrown on 
one side of the central line of its bearing, as com- 
pensates the weight of that portion of the load it 
sustains, which is beyond the other side of that line ; 
thereby maintaining an equilibrium, so far as is con- 
sistent with the necessary projection of weight for the 
purpose of its motion. 

270 [sect, x. 


No. 1. Surprise. 

THIS figure is evidently startled at somewhat 
which has recently taken place before his eyes, and 
which has excited his apprehension : but which is 
not so close to him as to encrease that apprehension 
into concern for his personal safety. This subject is 
an idea of Pharaoh beholding the rods changed into 

No. 1. Fear. 
This figure is so overcome by fear of mishap, that 
he hardly dare move a foot ; his hands/?*?/ their way, 
aad his whole attitude shews great tremor and appre- 
hension. This is the figure of Elymas the Sorcerer 
struck blind ; by Rafaelle. 

N. B. Sir James Thornhill has greatlj augmented 
the danger of Elymas, in his picture of the same 
subject, by placing him on steps down which he 
is proceeding. 

No 3. Affright. 
This figure is alarmed at somewhat very close to 
him ; somewhat from which he draws back, shrinks, 
recoils. — This is an idea of Moses on the Mount 
Horeb, when his rod was changed into a serpent. 

No. 4. Terror. 
This is Cain flying from the judgment pronounced 
upon him. He seems to strain every nerve to avoid 
the vindictive sentence ; yet, by his looking back 
toward the object of his terror, he plainly shews that 
the dread of it continually fills his conscious mind. 


LECT. X.] \>~\ 


NO. 1. Rf.SK; NATION. 

This figure seems in all humility to acquiesce in 
what is told her ; and laying her hands on her bosom, 
to express " so let it be ;" her kneeling, &C. con- 
tributes to this expression. This is an idea of the 
Virgin Mary, at the time of die Annunciation. 

No. 2. Reverence. 

This figure shews more confidence than the former; 
it kneels, but on one knee only, and, by directing its 
looks upward, it seems, even while doing homage, to 
be also in a kind of conversation with the object 
which it reverences. This is an idea of Manoah 
at the instant of the Angel's departure from him. 

No. 3. Despondency. 
Very different from the former, this figure seems 
lost in melancholy, and scarce exerts a single mem- 
ber of its person, to receive with any pleasure the 
news communicated to it : languid, enfeebled, de- 
spondent, it hears, but hearing, scaice attends, scarce 
believes. This is an idea of Hagar in the wilder- 
ness ; the Angel just appearing to her. 

No. 4. Giuef. 
Exclamation, boundless suffering, bitterness, which 
will have vent, characterizes this figure ; which, 
reduced to despair, by the murder of its offspring, 
appeals to heaven, and fills both heaven and earth 
with lamentation. This is an idea of a Motheb 
whose infant has been just slaughtered at Bethlehe;::. 


272 [lect. x* 


No. ]. Authority. 

This figure seems to be directing, by means of his 
rod, somewhat to obey his commands ; he exerts no 
very strong emotion of his own ; but seems to expect 
what shall certainly follow. This is an idea of 
Moses commanding by means of his rod. 

No. 2. Anger. 

This figure shews transports of rage ; he rises, he 
lifts his staff, he is agitated, he trembles, as it were, 
with anger ; and, while he seems to speak, he seems 
too much empassioned to hear a reply. This is an 
idea of Balaam. 

No. 3. Intercession. 

Great activity to prevent a dreaded evil characte- 
rizes this figure ; she throws herself between the 
uplifted sword and the child about to suffer by it ; 
she remonstrates, she exclaims, she loses not an 
instant in preventing what she fears. This is an idea 
of the Mother Harlot in Solomon's judgment. 

No. 4. Cruelty. 

This figure seems to be loaded, but not, in its 
own opinion, overloaded, with children for slaughter; 
some it has slain, others it carries off to slay, and, 
unable to hold more in its arms, it carries one, by 
means of its linen, in its mouth. A fit representa- 
tion of a Guard sent to slaughter the Innocents at 


LECT. X.] >J ; 


No. ] . s 

Whether it m e what it sees, whether itb 

duty be to worship, seems the enquiry of this figure; 
his hands clasped, his one knee bent, his head look- 
ing up, all mark the greatness of those sensations 
which he feels ; and mark also the uncertainly of 
those convictions, which as yet are rather nascent, 
than mature. This is an idea of a figure beholding 
the Ascension. 

No. 2. Exultation. 

Kneeling with very different emotions is this figure 
of Jonah ; he pours out his grateful effusions, 
plainly, audibly, forcibly, yet reverently ; and, 
while his thanksgivings ascend to heaven, no hesita- 
tion on his part retards their ascent. 

No. 3. Aversion. 

This group shews how the same passion may be 
represented in various attitudes, and by various ac- 
tions : while one is pushing off the subject of aver- 
sion, others are turning away from it, or lifting up 
their hands against it, or by other means shewing 
they no less desire its absence than he does who is 
most active in expelling it from before him. Of 
such variety are all expressions capable. 

These subjects are all taken from Bible history, that 
the nature of their expression may be more familiar 
to the Student. 

Edit. 7- Nn LIST 




Plates to Lecture IV. 


Qf Proportion, Plates 1 to 4. 90 to 93 

Of Handling, twelve Plates, Sprigs, &c. 

Plates 5 to 16. - - 94. 

Plates to Lecture V. 

Plate 17, Eyes at large - - - 114 

Plate 1 8, Noses at large - - ib. 

Plate 19, Mouths at large r ib. 

Plate 20, Ears at large - ib, 

Plate 21 j Principles of drawing the Head 115 

Plate 22, The Head seen in Front - 117 

Plate 23, Three-quarters Face - 118 

Plate 24, Profile - ib. 

Plate 25, Head looking down - - J 19 

Plate 26, Head very much looking down ib. 

Plate 27, Head looking up - - J 20 

Plate 28, Head very much looking up ib. 

Plates 29 to 34, Parts of the Face 121 

Plates to Lecture VI. 

Plates 35 to 38, Antique Characters 151 

Plates 39 to 44, Childhood, - - 152 

Plate 45, Youth - ib. 

Plate 46, Maturity - - r ib. 

Plate 47, Manhood - - ib. 

Plate 48, Age, Woman's Head - ' ib. 

Plate 49, Age, Mans Head - ib. 

Plate 5o, Old Age - - ib. 

( 275 ) 

Plates 51, 52, Bearded Heads, large 152 
Plate 53, Turk's Head : from a Drawing by 

the late Mr. Mortimer ib. 
Plate r i4, Soldiers: from a Drawing by Mr. 

Mortimer - - ib. 
PUt -, The Tipsy Cobler asleep : from a 

Sketch in oil by Worlidge - ib. 
Plate 56, Angel's Head: from a Drawing by 

Mr. Shelley - ib. 

Plates r>7 to 6'2, Physiognomy - 153 

Plate 63, Profiles of a Monkey and Negro 155 

Plate 64, Profile of a Calmuc Tartar ib. 

Plate 6b, Profile of an European - tb. 

Plate 66, Profile of an ideal Head ib, 

Plate 67, Front Pace of an Oran Otan 160 

Plate 68, Front Face of a Negro - ib. 

Plate 69, Front Face of a Calmuc - ib. 

Plate 70, Front Face of an European ib. 
Plates 71 to 74, Progress from Infancy to Age 102 

Plate 75, Differences of Maturity and Age 1 6(3 
Plate 76, Differences of European and Negro 167 

Plates to Lecture VIS 
Plates 77, 78, 79, Expression, Outline-Heads 188 

Plates to Lecture VIH. 
Plate 80, Proportion of the Figure 2 ! 3 

Plate 81, Bones of the Arm and Leg '215 

Plate 82, Arms, measured from the Antique ib. 
Plate 83, Legs, measured from the Antique ib. 
Plates 84, 85, Children's Hands, Children's Feet />. 
Plates 86 to sg. Parts of the Figure - ib. 

Plates 90, 91, Feet, &c. - - ib. 

Plates 92, 93, Legs, out-lines. Legs, finished ib. 
Plate 94, Venus, measured from the Antique ib. 

( 276 ) 

Plates 95, 96, Antinous 
Plates 97 , 
Plates 99, 
Plates 101 

Plate 103 
Plate 104 
Plate 105 
Plate 10(5, 
Plate 107 
Plate 108 
Plate 109 
Plate 1 1 
Plate 111 
Plate 112 
Plate 113 
Plate 114 
Plate 115 
Plate 116 

Plate 117 
Plate 118 
Plate 119 
Plate 120 
Plate 121 
Plate 122 
Plate 123 
Plate 124 
Plate 125 
Plate 126 
Plate 127 
Plate J 28 

measured - 21 6 

98, The same : back view ib. 
100, Antique Fragment, measured ib. 

,102, Antique Boy^ measured ib. 

Plates to Lecture IX. 

Character of the Figure 241 

Character, Antinous, he. 242 

Character, Bacchus, &c. 243 

Character, Venus, &c. - 244 

Character, Faun, &c. - 245 

Character, Pan, Sec. - 246 

Figure from the Antique' 247 
Boy from a Drawing by Mr. Cosway ib. 

Boy and Dog - - ib. 

A Dutch Boor smoaking ib. 

A Soldier standing - ib. 

A Dutch Boor in Enjoyment ib. 

A Soldier reposing - ib. 

Sancho Panqa ; two plates ib. 

Plates to Lecture X. 

Motion, Figure standing still 266 

Figure resting on one Leg ib. 

Figure in easy Progress 267 

JPigure extending his Arm ib. 

Figure throwing a Stone 268 

Figure throwing a Dart - ib. 

Two Men pushing and pulling 269 

Figure carrying a Load - ib. 

Expression, Surprise, &c. - 270 

Expression, Resignation, &c. 27 1 

Expression, Authority, &c. 272 

Expression, Suspence, &c. 273 


Hate i •■«' />,.. 



Motto n 

from tin Oru/m<i< Drawing by fl >,/Jin . 

/'/..-/<■ j--' i page 266. 




ZJwti <&? Original ' Jhmrin,/ by Foyfitn 

Flfitr/22 page 168. 


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